A lot of Lunches

Aug7

It’s interesting, but I’ve become a kind of a ghost placeholder for widowers. First my friend Ron, Rhonda’s widower came, and I made a ground pork, cheddar and noodle casserole, which he liked a lot. We talked about dear Rhonda and how wonderful she was, and I sent him off with a hug and a piece of chocolate cake.

Then came lunch for my friend Patricia where I had cleverly made extra of the casserole, and we had that however with a different salad. She loves cherries so I made a lettuce salad with cherries and a delicious dressing, and cherry clafoutis for dessert. Google those as they’re easy to make and delicious.

Elsa and Marie came for lunch on separate occasions and those are largely stress-free events as they happen so frequently. Then I made a new friend, and this was my junior high school friend, Bobbi’s widower, named Chad. He came for lunch, and I made us butter chicken, then he came to Osoyoos a few days later where we scattered some of her ashes.

Mom’s peaches, Glo Havens, are ripening in Osoyoos and they’re one of the nicest varieties around. She has 19 trees on her property so that’s a lot of compote, jam and pie. I was just there for my usual visit and picked around 25 pounds and want to return for more, but how when my nerves are shot from the drive as it is, so adding in an extra trip isn’t a good feeling.

Here’s another weird feeling. I now weigh 5 pounds less than I did when I got married 40 years ago. So the other day when I was cleaning out old stuff, I found my wedding dress and noticed it was a size 11. Should be perfect, right? I unzipped it and pulled it up over my hips and slid my arms into the sleeves then reached around to pull up the zipper.

Well. Do you know I’d need an extra foot of fabric to close it? How is this possible? I weigh less, yet can’t get even get close to zipping a dress I actually wore comfortably when I weighted more. I failed physics, you know, and this is another puzzle for me to ponder. I took it off, folded it and returned it to the trunk, to be tried on again in twenty years, I guess.

The other night while aimlessly scrolling through You Tube wondering what to watch, I saw Sumo Wrestling championships in Nagoya Japan. I thought what the hell, you can only watch so many plane crash and people slipping and falling shows, so clicked on that, and found out I just adore it. It’s so quick I’d hate to be there in person as you really need the slow mo replays to fully enjoy it.

What you get are two lard-filled behemoths crashing into each with such force their thigh fat ripples. At other times it’s like Bugs Bunny and the charging bull, he just steps aside, and pa-wang the bull hits an anvil. In this case a cagey wrestler steps aside at the right moment and his opponent steps out of the ring. End of match.

The other day I dyed my hair the colour of your standard mouse. Getting the Miss Clairol mix just right is hard, and see above, physics wasn’t really my thing. I guess this is more like chemistry as I mix two colours together, but now that I think of it, I failed chemistry as well. I’m not a math/science student by any stretch of the imagination.

But if you want a nice lunch made while reminiscing about your significant other, I’m ace at that.

You Have to Love Pets

Jul24

I had a rodent-filled couple of days thanks to the tuxedo cats. A few nights ago, I heard one of the cats coming into the house through the pet door, making their distinctive very loud meowing that denotes they have prey. I got up and closed my bedroom door and got back into bed. As I was trying to get back to sleep, I heard Frieda fooling around, her nails clicking on the wood floor, and so I got up grabbed the dog, gave her a couple of slaps and threw her into her bed.

Frieda then remained a good dog in her bed until I woke up, giving both dogs permission to leave their beds, and as soon as they did, they started mad hunting behaviours in my room. Being dachshunds, they hate to waste energy on nonsense so when that hunting instinct hits, I know there’s a rodent nearby. I moved a piece of furniture, and a mouse ran out.

I screamed at the dogs, “over here, over here”, but by then the mouse had leapt into the drawer of my night table. I opened it for the dogs, but once again the wily mouse ran out and got into my closet. Frieda then spent the next three hours looking up, so I tried to lift her up high to see if she could get it, and I shook my clothes, thinking maybe it was hiding there, but nothing.

The next day I noticed something pink on my closet floor and peering closely I saw it was a baby mouse. Then I saw two more of them scattered about. I guess that was a pregnant rodent? No further sign of the mother, but I had to deal with the most disgusting hairless miscreants. Barf!

The following morning when we got up the dogs did the barking, scratching, panting at the chest of drawers in the entrance hall, so once again, I thought here we go, another mouse. I moved a corner and suddenly a rat ran out of the other end. I screamed at Louie “Sic Sic Sic!” and at that moment Louie turned, and the rat ran right into him whereby he shook it and bam, dead rat.

I just got back from Osoyoos where it was Frieda’s turn to vomit all over the place. Two weeks ago it was Louie, but this time it was Frieda. She’d spent hours scratching under the peach trees looking for mice so perhaps had found some and ate one that’d gone bad. You know a rogue mouse. First, she threw up in the night on the newly washed bedspread from the puke-out of Louie’s two weeks earlier.

Then all day yesterday she continued to throw up every few hours, and curiously only liked to do it on mom’s Persian area carpets. These aren’t the kind I would buy, you know the $300 jobs made from polyester, but the properly woven variety that cost thousands of dollars. Oopsies.

Have you heard of Folex carpet cleaner? It really works. I spent quite a lot of time with it yesterday and this morning, and can vouch for it being largely successful, though I have to say bile is a killer. Let’s just say we’ll always remember this visit when we look at those carpets.

It’s a good thing mom’s as far gone as she is, as those carpets were her pride and joy. But she’s now largely returning to babyhood, where she eats and naps, eats and naps. She says hilarious things like “I went downstairs to check on the furnace” to which I reply, “No, you didn’t.” She says, “But how do you know that I didn’t?” and I reply, “Because you can’t even stand up to walk from here to the bathroom.”

So between the pets and mom, not to mention Luke, there’s always some form of nerve erosion going on.

Eventful Two Weeks

Jul10

I had the great pleasure of making dinner for three Ya Ya’s and their husbands at the end of June. It was funny because when I told Mom I’d invited Phyllis and Gord, Penny and Jim, and Maryjoy she went into a total snit about it. She said she didn’t want the dinner at her house, and she didn’t want to be involved and would go straight to bed when the guests came. I said that was excellent, given there’d be six of us, and if she stayed it’d be an awkward number.

She kept bitching and bitching about it, saying she would’ve appreciated more notice of such an event. I said to her I think two weeks notice is plenty, especially given she wouldn’t be in attendance, so why did she care? I think she just wanted to ensure my nerves would be totally eroded by the time the dinner rolled around.

I told Penny and Jim to come early as I said mom wants to talk about death and dying with Penny. They came around 4:00 and so Penny just asked mom some questions about her views on living and dying and so on, and basically it was established even though Mom’s signed up for MAID, she’s too scared to die so isn’t going to go for that and instead will wait it out and die naturally.

By then it was 5:00 so the others arrived, and I’d made crab and cream cheese stuffed mushroom caps for appies, and mom happily scarfed a few of those. Then it was time to sit down for dinner, and I had set the table for six. Mom announced she’d changed her mind and would join us for dinner after all, so in a muttering fit I got out another place setting and grabbed an extra chair.

I’d made chicken Marbella with rice, a green bean salad and a cucumber salad, and Phyllis kindly made an angel food cake containing 11 egg whites for dessert as it was Jim’s birthday in a few days. Everyone seemed happy with the event and the food, especially Mom.

Because of the precarious nature of Denis’ health, Nick flew in for a visit and brought his little five-year-old son Justin. They stayed here in Kelowna for a night upon arrival, then went to Midway to check out old Denis. They visited gramma and me in Osoyoos and camped down at the beach.

At the end of their visit, I’d invited the Taylors to come for dinner which was another successful event. I’d made coconut curried beef stew, rice, and a couple of salads, and also a cake and some brownies for dessert. James and Ashley’s little girl and Justin played like mad hyenas and had a lot of fun.

Then it was time for Nick and Justin to head off, and I said honestly, one visit a year with a five-year-old is probably all old gramma’s nerves are able to take. The kid’s wonderful, smart and really cute, but still a menace in a home unused to children. The dogs and cats were completely traumatized.

I know the child’s mother reads my blog and will think what the hell? But it’s nothing personal, it’s just any pint-sized torpedo moving at a top rate of speed in a home accustomed to solitude could cause a raised eyebrow on the part of the old grand mere, non?

As a follow-up to old Denis’ situation, Luke, Jan and I visited him yesterday and he seems to be very frail after his health incident. He’s not at all able to follow the diabetic menu suggestions and I think not eating properly is a big problem for an insulin-dependent diabetic, but what do I know?

I Saved a Life

Jun26

Friday the 13th turned out to be unlucky for poor old Denis. Sometime that morning I’d received an email from Luke saying Denis had gone to the Grand Forks hospital on Wednesday due to a bad reaction to Ozempic but presumably was released. Luke then emailed me on Friday saying he’s been texting his dad, but no reply. I said call the Grand Forks Hospital.

Luke then emailed he’d called, but the hospital said he wasn’t there. I then tried phoning Denis and got no reply, so I thought something funny must be going on, so sent a text to his sister Monica in San Diego saying try to text Denis as he always replies to you. She got no reply and felt concerned by that so texted Kevin on Pender Island, and he phoned their friend Mike who lives in Midway and told him to go by Denis’ house.

Mike arrived and knocked, no answer, so he called 911. The police broke in and found Denis in a coma, so called the ambulance and he was transported to Trail Hospital.  Denis was in bad shape given he could’ve been in that coma for two days for all we know. However he did bounce back and is now at home being tended to by a few of his brothers and both of our boys who were very worried about their old dad.

Hence, had Luke not let me know he couldn’t reach his dad, and had I not felt worried that I couldn’t contact him either, the whole chain of events wouldn’t have occurred, and Denis surely would be dead. His body temperature was 30 degrees C when they found him, so God only knows how long he was lying there.

Aside from that roller coaster ride all else was normal. Sylvie and I went to the Perch restaurant downtown for Happy Hour and just as we were about to be served our food it began to rain so we had to run inside. There was a huge clap of thunder that made all of us jump, then laugh. I plan to return with Margaret when she visits next month.

Petra and I went to Road 13 Winery in Oliver to watch the annual Weiner Dog races and managed to catch one of the heats. We had lunch at the Flealess Hound Pub at Gallagher’s outside Oliver, and I don’t need to tell you that I had the chicken burger, do I? All my friends just laugh as it’s an actual “thing” when I go to a restaurant. I am nuts for them, okay?

Marie came for lunch and I made a lettuce salad with ripe cherries. I had the recipe in the July 2024 issue of my newsletter. One also adds red onions and feta cheese and then top with a delicious dressing made with Dijon mustard, honey, oil, and red wine vinegar. I had found a very nice recipe for chicken cashew which I served with rice for the main course.

I suppose some people would view madcap food consumption and constant cooking and baking as overt hedonism, however they, like thrift store shopping, spark joy. I love handing a bag of cookies to Gilles the handyman whose eyes light up at the sight of them. He knows I like to make cannabis laced chocolate chip cookies too, so he always ensures these are the “normal” kind and I say Yes, Gilles, these are the normal kind.

Once again, we all thought wow, gramma at 100 could out-live Denis but thankfully, he prevailed, and I believe I’ve pretty much secured my spot in Heaven. Right?

Shopping Marathon

Jun13

My friend Beverly, who I met 47 years ago when we were both teachers of the deaf in Prince George, came for a few days, and she wanted to go to thrift every single day. I certainly wasn’t opposed to it, so we began with the Women’s Shelter and the Mission thrift stores and ended the day in Rutland at the Rutland Hospital Auxiliary.

The next day we visited Value Village which overwhelmed Bev with the volume of stuff. Luckily Dairy Queen is right next door, so we went over for medium-sized chocolate dipped cones to calm our nerves. You know how a glass of milk before bed is supposed to be soothing.

On Monday we went to the SHARE society store downtown and then rewarded ourselves with delicious crispy chicken burgers and fries at the Railway Station Pub. When I think of it, our time together was spent either eating or shopping. Both excellent pursuits.

It likely won’t surprise you to know that I didn’t leave a single store empty-handed, though Bev often did. It’s funny how that works.

Then Elsa wanted to go treasure hunting which we did yesterday, so we hit the Mennonite, iThrift (everything is $2), Gospel Mission and Salvation Army stores. Because it occurred so recently, I can actually recall a couple of items that I purchased. One was a Villeroy and Boch ceramic tile trivet for $3 but $25 on Etsy, and a hand-beaded evening clutch made in Hong Kong for $3, but $40 on Etsy. Not that I ever sell anything, but I could if I wasn’t so damned lazy.

This was something that I was so hopeful I would do this year, but it doesn’t appear to be happening yet. I want to sell my grandparents’ old typewriter, mom’s old Singer sewing machine and other items like that to collectors who may like them, because as Luke has already explained when I die, “All this mom, right into a dumpster.” So ya know, I gotta get at it.

Denis used to describe my thrift store shopping as “bringing home other people’s garbage.” How wrong can you be? You remember the old saying, “one man’s meat is another man’s poison.”  Those of us who shop at thrift are so very grateful to the hockey wives bored of their $500 bag after one season of use.

Fifty percent of my hens are still acting like a. holes. Three of them, Kate, Condoleezza and Rhonda, insist on sitting in the nest box all day long and have to be forcibly removed several times a day. I go into the coop at least three times a day, scolding the hens for wasting their days inside, pick them up and toss them through the opening into their pen.

They seem grateful to have the spell broken as they dust bathe, and peck around happily. However, a few hours later, bam! Right back into the coop and sitting on eggs from the other hens, the “good” chickens, that will never hatch. I do hope to God the whole brooding episode ends soon as they don’t lay while it’s going on so it’s quite the annoyance.

Being able to waste enormous amounts of time in a lazy stupor, I’ve set myself the goal of mid-September to have my memoir of the fruitcake biz completed and ready for Amazon. Trevor, who illustrated Okay I’ll Bite, has all the equipment I’ll need to make an audio version as well, so that’s what I plan to do. But as we all know, “everyone has a plan ‘til they get punched in the mouth.”

Mom’s Quite the Handful

May29

One thing I do not do is run into the house when I hear the phone ringing and I’m out working in the garden. I don’t like talking on the phone as it is, but when I’m interrupted by something like “Did you just phone me?” asked by a 100-year-old, it gets maddening. As you may recall, Luke installed a Tapo camera in Mom’s living area, so I can see the phone ringing when I call her. Her phone then says, “M. Schiller” a few times as it’s ringing. So then I ask mom, did the phone say it was me? No? Then no, I didn’t call you.

And if it was just useless questions being asked constantly, it’d be fine, but Mom’s crabby streak has caused her nighttime caregiver to give notice, so now Jan’s going to take over sleeping there. Poor Jan. She’s the least favourite person on mom’s list. I guess everyone has a burden to bear when caring for a centenarian.

Margaret came for the long weekend, and we went down to Osoyoos to party around with Luke and Jan, and of course Mom. Though cranky, she easily drinks her .5 litre of wine and eats her two Ritter Sport chocolate bars a night. Margaret’s not used to our lifestyle and was hungover the first day but then got with the program and managed to hold her own and still feel okay the second day.

I was raised to loathe and fear teetotallers, so drinking is just what Schillers do. Growing up, people who didn’t drink were spoken of as the world’s stupidest bores, so who wouldn’t want to drink for God’s sake? I believe the secret to it is keeping it to a dull roar to avoid damage.

Sunny and Julie and their families came for brunch, as did Denis so there were 14 of us. At the last minute Mom decided she was too sick and went to bed for a couple of hours. Then came out and seemed fine. I made a particularly delicious breakfast casserole, made with croissants instead of bread. Everyone seemed to like all of it, plus fruit salad, ambrosia salad, pound cake and marshmallow and chocolate squares.

It was nice to get back home, and Margaret and I had time for a couple of hours of thrift store shopping on Tuesday before she flew home. Then two days later Elsa and I returned for more treasure hunting, and I felt fab finding a Fossil handbag for $10. So much better than the several hundred the original owner paid.

And on Sunday, June 1, I will have lived in this lovely house for 35 years! Isn’t that great? And due to the awful thrift store hobby, I can’t move, so this is it until I’m hauled out feet first. Watching Mom age is certainly scary, and I can see it takes a lot of courage to get that old, but I’ll just have to cross that bridge when I get to it. If I do, right?  Putin could take us out with a nuclear bomb tomorrow.

Hence my philosophy of not worrying, which I try to employ even though it can be difficult. When I was in Germany, I learned so much by staying with dear Hannelore, mom’s cousin who is 92. We spent every morning and evening talking about all manner of things, and one thing she stressed was not trying to predict the future and to just let it all come upon you.

And when you think of it, there’s nothing we can do except try our best to remind ourselves how fortunate we are. My problems are small: broody hens, a centenarian, clutter, an insatiable appetite for trashy YouTube videos and incurable evening snacking.  Okay, add vodka and there you have it.

Back to the Old Routine

May16

Holidaying in April may seem like a good idea, however if one gardens like a lunatic, it’s not an ideal time to be away. Nonetheless I’ve managed to get myself out into the yard most days, weeding and planting like there’s no tomorrow. It’s a tad on the cold side so I’m leaving the tomatoes and cucumber plants in the greenhouse for now, but I want to get my sainted dahlias into the ground.

Elsa and I went to thrift to hunt for treasures and amazed ourselves with the volume we managed to haul home. I also visited mom in Osoyoos and brought her chocolate from Germany, which she appreciated, given her penchant for it. She’s still getting half a litre of wine and a couple of chocolate bars down a day.

Then there’s the work on my memoir of the fruitcake biz, which I’d hoped to have ready for the public by this month, but alas, it wasn’t to be. I felt discouraged about it all, then out of the blue got a lovely e mail from Sharon Thesen, a published writer for God’s sake, who wrote about my little book Okay, I’ll Bite, “I love the book, what a service you have done to mankind by writing it.  Maybe especially womankind.  It’s so encouraging and witty, and life-loving and smart.”

Can you imagine what that does to a person? Now I have the motivation to return to my memoir and get it polished and ready for a late fall release. Why? Because a friend of mine who’s also a writer pointed out that a book about fruitcake would do well coming out at Christmas. Brilliant, right? Plus, now I can relax about it and enjoy the final editing process, as if that could be possible.

Then there’s the usual baking and cooking that I do both for the purpose of it being eaten, but also for therapy. If nervous, I start to bake. It was Gilles the garden handyman’s birthday, so I made my famous chocolate chunk torte for him, and he loved it. I made crème brulee for Marie and me for our Mother’s Day lunch and gave the leftovers to Calvin and Visini who wolfed it down with cries of joy.

I like to spend Mother’s Day with Marie, as she also experiences a challenging relationship with her daughter, as I do with my younger child, and so we give each other joke gifts. Last year I gave her a mug that said World’s Best Mom and this year she gave me a hilarious T shirt which says Rocking the Mom Thing. We both adore sardonic wit.

In keeping with usual routines, yesterday the Crones and I met at the Eldorado for Happy Hour which was pleasant as it was warm enough to sit outside. Not satisfied with the amount of liquor I’d imbibed there, when I got home, I made myself a nice guava juice and vodka cocktail. After that I thought what a great idea to do some laundry.

I’d already done the wash, and so it just needed to be thrown into the dryer. Sadly, my arm caught the large bottle of liquid Tide, which splashed onto the open dryer door, getting everywhere. For a moment I wondered what it all meant, do you start again and wash? Or ignore it and dry? I went upstairs and decided this was a problem best solved in the morning.

This morning it was solved with a lot of paper and regular towels, and as it turned out the stuff inside the dryer wasn’t soaked in Tide so I was able to just dry it. It all reminded me of growing up and hearing “you’re a bull in a China shop” from my mom, which then of course exacerbated the bullishness.

I’m Back

May1

I followed the Canadian election as best I could while visiting my dear relatives in Germany and was of course overjoyed with the result. Three seats short of a majority is annoying, but compared to what was predicted in December it was practically an Easter miracle – the resurrection and all.

First stop after the airport was a store as I said to Heilke I’ll need a drink the minute we hit Hannelore’s house. So we bought vodka and juice, and I arrived half dead on a Thursday afternoon, yet by 10:00 PM I had to force myself to sleep, but then joyfully slept for nearly 12 hours!

Good Friday it’s a tradition to eat Maultaschen, which are basically German ravioli minus the tomato sauce. They’re hamburger-filled dough pockets and then covered in beef or chicken broth. We ate these with a delicious potato salad Heilke’s son Andre had made. This was followed by a variety of ice-cream flavours, however I knew if I wanted to remain normal sized for the two weeks I’d have to say no thanks.

And speaking of food, every morning at Hannelore’s I’d eat delicious bread slathered with the freshest butter you’ve ever eaten, and coated in homemade berry jam. This was accompanied by vats of premium quality coffee.  At around 8:00 PM we’d end the day with the same bread and butter, but with ham and cheese, accompanied by sugary sweet cherry tomatoes and various salads.

One salad I’d never eaten is called Ackersalat which means farm salad, but it’s a very soft small leaf that grows throughout the winter and is ready in spring, after which the season is over. I experienced the joy of this kind of seasonal food when we went to a” Spargelbesen” on Easter Sunday.

A “Besen” is a kind of food or drink event held at a farm for a limited amount of time. So there are asparagus, beef, wine, and goose events held at only certain times of the year, which I love. I told them we sadly get asparagus all year long, but they said, no, here we get it only in spring. At this event the main thing was the thick white asparagus which was served slathered in Hollandaise sauce.

I had wonderful homemade Spaetzle at my cousin Ruth’s in Meckenbeuren served with gravy, and also chicken and mushrooms in a creamy sauce. All so good, and one of the main reasons for visiting Germany other than the family.

We toured the beautiful town of Calw on the edge of the Black Forest. Hiked to a waterfall near Bad Urbach and then visited the cute town itself, sitting outside to have a German lunch of Bratwurst and fries near the town’s fountain.

Every Saturday Hannelore’s daughter-in-law goes to the bakery at the crack of dawn and gets freshly baked pretzels for breakfast and hangs them on her door at 7:15 AM. Isn’t that just so adorable, I mean both the idea of doing that plus the precision of the hour for delivery? We would cut them in half and coat their soft interior with unsalted butter which contrasts so beautifully with their crust of salt. Other than eat, we did drive around and see sights such as the cloister at Bebenhausen which was founded around 1184. Southern Germany really is a pretty amazing place, then throw in great relatives and it was a fabulous holiday.

Big Trip Tomorrow

Apr15

I’m off to Germany tomorrow and am in the process of packing. I got those packing cubes, the plastic cases that you can zip up tight, and man, can you ever get a lot of clothes into one of those. I can’t believe my carry-on can hold so much, but those cubes compress the living daylights out of everything. It’ll be heavy, as I have jam and maple butter to bring to the relatives.

I wonder how successful I can possibly be given last summer my German relatives were dismayed to find bottles of wine and beer steins, carefully packed inside pounds of clothes, were smashed in transit. I put the jam and maple butter into baggies so that if they do get crushed, my clothes won’t be quite so heavily coated. I plan to check the bag, so fingers crossed.

In preparation for being away I’ve been working like an indentured servant on this property. It’s a lot more like farming than gardening as my weary body will attest. I finally decided working around a variegated ground cover that’s invaded every bed wasn’t workable, so have spent hours and hours shovelling and shaking out roots, then tossing the nasty plant. I know it’ll return, but at least I’ve given it a bit of a shock.

I was in Osoyoos for four long nights as Mom’s nighttime caregiver took some time off. It wasn’t too bad as there’s always so much to do there, either in the house or yard, so the time passed. Luke decided working isn’t really his thing, so quit his job, and has been spending time mowing, pruning and doing general yard maintenance which is good.

My friend Joan’s going to stay here with the dogs and cats. Calvin said the dogs howl at night when I’m away, so this’ll put a stop to that. I made a couple of dinners for her and froze them so she can start with that, and then she’ll have to get a few groceries for herself. Not much as the house always seems to have an awful lot of stuff in it.

I did a bit of volunteering for the Liberals on Saturday by handing out pamphlets at the Farmers Market. I was accompanied by a nice young woman who’d never done this type of thing before so after observing me accost a couple of innocent shoppers, she quickly got the hang of it. I said basically it’s like being a Jehovah’s Witness, you just have to suck it up and approach a person.

Most people were nice, and either said no thanks, or else they were going to vote Liberal and said so. But naturally there are always people who have to ensure you know they’re not only not going to vote Liberal, but that you’re the biggest pariah on Earth for stumping for them. To one agitated man after a long tirade, I replied, “well I guess we’ll just have to let the public decide.”

Mom’s just decided that she no longer wants to take her prescription meds, so I called the pharmacy and cancelled. She hasn’t had her high blood pressure meds since April 6 and is fine, so not sure what’s going to happen there. But at 100 one has to assume nothing good.

Even though I was just in Germany 18 months ago Doris insisted that I return, and now she’s been in hospital and is in a rehabilitation clinic, so I’ll be staying with her sister Hannelore instead. It’s quite annoying this happened, but she’s 94 and at that age anything is to be expected. But with our family’s genes I just assume everyone will continue.

My greatest hope is that I spend two weeks eating Schwabian food, that’s all. Nothing else matters.

New Eyebrows

Mar31

As we age a lot of ugly stuff happens, not the least of which is the loss of eyebrows. I realized I had maybe half of one left over each eye and was wondering what a person does about it. Then I heard about microblading, and intrigued, decided to go ahead and have it done. Turns out it’s actually a tattooing of brow “hairs” which look amazing and natural. Who knew?

Maintenance is time-consuming and expensive, but what can one do, just leave things as they are? No. Poor Calvin has witnessed many beauty treatments around here and so is used to seeing me resembling either a burnt mummy or a bruised car accident victim. End result: less visible aging, so pain be damned.

But of course the old carcass isn’t fooled as for the past few days I’ve been digging in the garden and my hands and haunches are killing me as a result. I’m digging out voracious grasses that have practically consumed entire perennials, shaking them out, and putting the plant back. Due to lazy neglect, I have hours more to do. Had I just weeded faithfully into the fall, but no.

Because I have to be in Osoyoos for four days early April, then I’m leaving for Germany mid-April, I’m not able to do the usual volunteering for the election. I certainly wouldn’t have booked the time away had I known, because you know how much I like politics. Because I’m leaving before the advance polls open, I have to go to my local Elections office to vote early.

And as it turns out I may be too late going to Germany because Mom’s cousin Doris, age 94 and who I always stay with, is in hospital and not doing great. So that’s a terrible surprise as I was looking forward to our coffee, bread and jam in the mornings. I’ll stay with her sister Hannelore, age 92, instead and it’ll be just as lovely, but different without Doris.

You know how cocky mom is and when she turned 100 she said “Now we’ll see who’s gonna die next.” Luke and I turned to each other and said “Ballsy!” But with that kind of omen I wonder if it isn’t poor Doris who might be the one. Mom has a way of casting spells that’s hard to explain.

My six lovely hens are all laying nicely and the one Aracuna is laying blue ones. Now my eggs all look very bespoke and ready for Pinterest. Some are dark brown with speckles, some almost mauve, the blue, and an almost white (from Kate the old Sussex hen). I like giving them to friends who are quite impressed.

Tomorrow the former gym women are coming for a coffee klatsch. I made a hopefully moist cherry, chocolate and pecan loaf and in keeping with the fruit theme, cookies made with dried strawberries and dark chocolate chips. It’s all for naught really, as they’ll have a couple of cups of black coffee and then leave. Gym women!

And then it’s pretty much a sprint until I leave due to being in Osoyoos for four nights to babysit mom. It’s wonderful having the camera as I can see her using the walker to go into the kitchen, pour a glass of wine and make her way back to her chair to eat some chocolate and watch TV. So she seems to be pretty good for her age, but it’s too dangerous to leave her alone at night, hence the babysitting.

I can get Luke, Jan and mom’s feedback on the new eyebrows, so that’s one good thing.