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.

Edward Scissorhands

Mar18

Edward Scissorhands, the 1990 movie starring Johnny Depp, was about a humanoid who had scissor blades instead of hands. In the movie he uses his hands to cut hair and trim hedges, and all’s well until he accidentally cuts people. This reminds of my dear landscaper, Gilles, who I asked to “prune” my fruit trees. My fault, really, and it reminded me of saying something stupid like that to the hairdresser, i.e. “cut” my hair. When you mean trim, and say cut, look out, right?

My apricot had finally produced a lot of branches studded with buds, so I was looking forward to some fruit this summer. I decided to go down to the vegetable garden area to see how Gilles was doing. I was dumbstruck when I saw all those branches lying on the ground, and said “oh, um, I guess no apricots this summer?”

He replied cheerily he’d left a couple of smaller (12 inches in length) branches and they had buds so there’d be “some.” Then a few days later Elsa asked me if I knew of someone who could prune her apple tree. I said my landscape helper can do that. Why I said that I don’t know, as you’re probably already skipping ahead in your mind to what occurred.

Yesterday Elsa came over and we drove in my car to thrift. On the way I asked if Gilles had been to her place, and when I saw her face: white, mouth tight, I thought uh-oh, Elsa never gets mad. She said, “my poor tree.” Apparently he took down the majority of the branches so now just a stump and a few smaller limbs remain.

I felt terrible and said I’m so sorry! We should’ve said “trim” and not “prune”, given he’s done that for years in commercial orchards. He knows what needs to be done, but as it turns out, I don’t want those things. I just want fake cosmetic shaping, and a bit of stuff cut down, that’s all. But if I live a long time, I think some day I’ll have apricots again.

Here’s the height of laziness. I went for a teeth-cleaning and when the dentist looked at my teeth, he tsk tsked as I haven’t been wearing my Invisalign retainers. He thought it’d be cheap to get some new ones made, and advised they’d call and let me know. A few days later the office manager phoned and said unfortunately I’d have to start over at around $5,000.

I said I’d think about it, knowing that was a hard no. Then got out the old retainers and have been wearing those and all seems to be well. Why Invisalign thought I’d need to start over when the old retainers still fit (albeit no longer 100%) I don’t know but I have my suspicions, don’t you?

I had the Crones here for Petra’s birthday as I like to do every year. I’d found an adorable tile at thrift that said “It’s hard to be humble when you’re German” which of course I wanted to keep but gave to her as I knew she’d enjoy it. It really is hard to be self-effacing, but we try our best.

Here’s an annoying development. I found a wonderful woman to sleep at Mom’s, but it turns out she’s a normal human being who enjoys having time off now and again. I can’t blame her at all; however, it means I now have to spend two nights there instead of one. Early April I have to spend four nights and I’m wondering if there’s even enough vodka in the Osoyoos liquor store for that.

My plan is to do an Edward Scissorhands impression and slash around mom’s garden by day, then get mellow with vodka by night. I’m hoping for the best is all.

The World Is Too Much with Us

Mar4

Do you know that poem by Wordsworth, one of my favourite poets? It seems appropriate now to say the world IS too much with us given we’re all addicted to YouTube suddenly and any bits of news from the maniac south of us. As a result, I woke up at 3:45 and decided at 5:00 AM to just get up as it became obvious, I wouldn’t be doing anymore sleeping. I wonder if billions of us are feeling the disruption.

I look southwest from my dining room window, so I guess I’ll have an excellent view of any mushroom clouds. It’s awful to think of that but with a dangerous moron leading the country that’s trying to take us over, all kinds of dark things come to mind. Thankfully I’m able to distract myself with practicalities such as dying my hair, which I’m doing as I type.

Mom’s 100th birthday went well, and she enjoyed all of the attention. I made her favourite rum cake into which I was able to get the entire 26er of booze this time. Sometimes I simply cannot get the cake to drink the entire bottle but this time, working slowly, I was able to coax it in. We like to eat it with lashings of whipped cream.

I picked our pal Jim up at the airport and he immediately had two dachshunds plopped on his lap. As I say to people if you don’t like that, just sit in the back seat. But he was fine with it, and we then stayed at mom’s for three nights and had a lot of fun with Luke and Jan.

Jim was on and on about how he needs to lose weight, despite being the size of a stick, and I said to him I weigh the same as I did when I was 18 and actually am five pounds lighter than when I got married. He said wow. I said yeah, wow, nothing. The secret is being quite heavy at 18 and even heavier when you marry, and then if you lose weight, you can parrot that line and make people mad.

I’m now enjoying the hell of trying to vote for the new Liberal leader. I say enjoy as I imagine other Liberal Boomers with no tenant in their basement who have a bachelor’s degree in computer science. I had to call Calvin up here just to do the very first step, and even our friend Jim who’s very computer savvy was freaking out as he wasn’t able to do it but then figured it out. Can’t wait to see of the 400,000 Liberals, how many were able to crack the code and managed to vote.

I completed the draft of my memoir and sent the 49,700 word document to my beleaguered editor, Judith. It’s quite a lazy thing to do, which is to pay the poor woman to read this and then I’ll work on the edits she suggests. I could’ve done much more of that prior to sending it but trust me when I say one can only re-read a fruitcake memoir so many times, and no one is paying me to do that.

Bored? Watch the Honeymoon Crasher on Netflix, it’s very funny. Just 90 minutes and so easy to watch and doesn’t require a lot of thought. As you know I’m not normal when it comes to Love is Blind, so am now waiting for the wedding show which is on Friday. Who will say I do? Who will have their little heart broken?

And speaking of which, I guess instead of being heartsick over the world going to hell in a handbasket, one should probably try to find the silver lining in all of it. To whit: Canadians have never been more patriotic, and I certainly have no intentions of travelling south any time soon.

Mom’s Upcoming 100th Birthday

Feb17

Mom’s hell bent on turning 100, and this will occur next week on the 25th. Our good friend Jim’ll be coming from Vancouver for the occasion, so it’ll be a birthday dinner celebration with the five of us: Mom, me, Jim, Luke, Jan. That’s what mom wants so that’s what will happen. Her cousin Hannelore phoned from Germany and told me to get a decent bottle of champagne which I will do.

Imagine my annoyance yesterday morning to find a cat had emptied its bladder onto my bed. I immediately identified Calvin’s rascally cat Felix as the culprit, given he’d told me the cat had wet a floor mat of his the other day. I emailed Calvin who replied with shock that surely it wasn’t his flawless cat. I replied well usually one plus one equals two. His cat has a record of peeing, mine are 7.5 years old and have never done that, so…..

Calvin wasn’t having it and said it wasn’t possible given his cat had spent the entire day downstairs. I replied that wasn’t plausible because he’d been in at least twice prior to 9:00 AM and after that many times and had in fact eaten his usual two cans of expensive food that day. Finally Calvin had to accept his cat might sometimes do a bad thing. His admonishment to the cat? “Good thing you’re so cute.”

I discovered a new flavour of chips for cookies. The latest ones I tried are cream cheese chips. I made a batch of cookies with one cup of those, and one cup of dark chocolate chips and people liked them. I gave some to the Lynches when I went to visit them at Silver Star. Very conveniently I’d ordered chicken feet for Jan from the butcher in Vernon, so I picked those up on my way to the top of the mountain.

People ask, what does Jan do with (ugh) chicken feet? I reply I’m not sure as I’ve never eaten them, but she salivates when she talks about them. Apparently, they’re cooked for a very long time in some kind of a sauce. I wonder about the claws, though. Would those float to the top and you skim them off, or what?

I was in Osoyoos again last weekend and so Lorraine, the nice woman who now sleeps at mom’s, had a night off. I went there to attend my school friend Mary’s husband’s funeral. As I said to Phyllis when I got home afterward, funerals always make me feel like a piece of shit. She laughed nervously, but I said no, seriously it’s true.

Greg was lauded by his sobbing daughter as the greatest dad ever with many stories of what a selfless person he was. She told of a time she felt bad as a mom, and they spoke on the phone, and he said to her “those kids are so lucky to have you as their mom.” Brianna said he was always so supportive and encouraging. I sat there going, wow, I stunk as a mom.

Hopefully by the time I’m dead I’ll have done something tear-worthy for a small group of people. Certainly I think the people I’ve cooked and baked for will feel a pang of sorrow going, “but, who’s gonna bake chocolate chip cookies for me?”

But on a much happier note, imagine my joy to discover there’s a new season of Love is Blind on Netflix. Because I love it so much, I try to ration the number of episodes I watch per night so I can prolong the experience.  Kinda like mom hanging on for dear life until next week.

The Year of the Snake Starting out Badly

Feb3

The year of the snake means a time of rapid transformation. Just as a snake sheds its skin, it’s a time of new beginnings for us. Sounds good, but so far the changes haven’t been all that great given we might be heading into a recession thanks to the viper south of the border. Fine for us Boomers, but a mighty blow to any youth who’ll be laid off and unable to find work. Better grab a bottle of Smirnoff (made in Canada) on your way home and enjoy the last few weeks of employment.

Mom’s recent transformations haven’t been great, either. Last week she was taken to emergency on two separate occasions and each time sent back home. The last time the doctor phoned me and said Mom can’t be alone at night, so I’ve hired a nice woman to come in the evenings and sleep there. Then Mom will be totally safe, and no more fighting with Luke to go and stay with gramma.

Because of the new weakened state she’s in Mom’s no longer able to go down the two steps to the lower area of the house to access the TV and her bedroom. So we moved her into the old part of the house, dad’s old bedroom and bathroom, and then moved the TV into the kitchen for her. Now she’s all on one level, which is good, but moving the TV meant disconnecting the satellite, which turned out very bad.

Mom lives for TV, but we said don’t worry, that’ll be fixed and in the meantime you’ll have whatever’s on the smart TV, like YouTube and Netflix. In other words, a lot of stuff. Unfortunately, the smart TV remote has numbers, letters and arrows the size of pin heads, so mom can’t change the channel and so we had to do it for her. And guess what? Mom has the attention span of a gnat but the demands of the Queen of England.

I’d be vacuuming. “Mooooooni!” I’d come running, “Yes?” And then Mom would explain she didn’t like that movie, and I’d have to find a new one. Mom lives for CNN and MSNBC so to save my sanity I said “Hey, I can get clips of that for you on YouTube”, so was able to find half an hour here, three quarters of an hour there of her favourites. Sadly she didn’t like it.

Why didn’t Mom like seeing all her favourite people on YouTube? It just didn’t feel right without her ability to control it with her old large easy-to-use remote, so she was in a terrible snit. Besides asking when the other channels would be available, she’d grab the now useless remote and try to change channels, and each time I’d say, “Isn’t that cute, you’re trying to change channels with that remote.”

Then she’d say, “Well if that remote isn’t working sometimes this one will work”, and she’d pick up the mobile phone. I said “Nope. Actually, the white thing is for calling people in their homes, but the black thing is the remote for changing channels on the TV but right now it doesn’t work.” After about 27 rounds of this explanation and the whole satellite shemozzle, I just got drunk as fast as I could.

Because of the heinous stress of the weekend I spent with mom, Calvin and Visini decided to take my mind off things with a game of Scrabble. I haven’t played in over 35 years, and it was a fun thing to do. I made one good move which netted 34 points, then crashed and burned ever after and ended up last, but didn’t care. We learned bott is the plural of bot, and don’t know what to do with either of those. I did learn the most obscure dictionary in the world is the “official” Scrabble one.