Tuesday, 30 October 2018


Well, we're coming up on Hallowe'en and if you want something scary, go looking to buy yourself a pair of jeans.  I did that yesterday.

When I was younger, buying jeans was something I did to enhance my wardrobe and flatter my figure....I bought flared, straight or skinny jeans that worked with my height and the fashion of the day.  There is nothing out there now that meets any one of those for me, so I bought some blah jeans that weren't too tight, too long or too sleazy, but it was tough to find them.

The ones I ended up with had a huge floppy cardboard letting the world know the size I would be  wearing, and that they were size X, Short and washed to look like I'd had a run in with a bleach-carrier.  There are other jeans out there, with sizes that allow you to match the length of your legs and the width of your waist and they're soft, with thread the same colour as the pants, but damn, they're expensive.  And by the way, "distressed", although it describes me, is also a key to the higher price.

Actually, I had forgotten that I have one really great pair of jeans. They actually fit me and are comfortable, but they got paint on them so I bought a rhinestone star patch for them and for some reason I've put them away for the season, and now I'm ashamed I've been so grumpy.

Monday, 15 October 2018

A Journey into the Depths of Nostalgia

Every once in a while I have a day, or part of one, where my legs are on strike.  I can walk but can't really control my direction.  I had one yesterday and chose to stay in bed...pillows behind my back, TV remote close by and an almost-finished book.  It looked like it was going to be a good day.  And in a strange way it was.

David brought up a couple of boxes from our locker, left them on the bed with a grin and a message that I could either attack those boxes, full of photos, or just leave them there.

I chose to open the boxes.

As I knew they would be, the photos, not looked at since we moved here 10 years ago, were immediate pulls on my heart-strings. I didn't let that stop me, even though I should have known better. 

Photos of family, of friends, of visits and trips, of many Valentine's Days and gifts under Christmas trees, of weddings and post-funeral meetings, of my kids with their kids and a surprising number of people and places I couldn't recall.

I cried.  I waited for Dave to go downstairs again before I actually really cried. But I also laughed and told myself off for wearing something I had loved at the time, and noticed that I'm thinner now than I was in my 40s and 50s.

Partway through the action, Dave came in to see how I was doing on the decision-making.  "Decision-making?" I said.  "What do you want to keep, and what should go?" Dave explained.

I'm still laughing.

Sunday, 14 October 2018

Did I say I hate Google Photo?

Tonight I was thinking about writing a blog, and working it around a photo.  Over the last couple of weeks we have had out-of-town family visiting us and have taken photos galore, both of them and our local family.

So I just now spent a half-hour or so looking at photos, videos and work of mine which includes many lovely things covered over by one or more of my fingers, some video I'd taken which kept zooming between Robyn and Maddy doing gymnastic feats and strange blurry glances of my feet, my fingers again and the buttons on my jacket. Luckily, there were also a few photos taken by David of the 3 sisters while we were up in the beautiful countryside just north of us in Qu├ębec.

None of these will be in this blog, thanks to Google Photos which I hate with such vigour that my teeth are only two-thirds of what they were last summer.  I did manage to acquire two photos, one at the covered bridge in Gatineau and another at the Inn we stayed in that same day.

left to right: Mary, me, Dave
left to right: Mary, Kathy, me
And, the last thing I have to say about this is that I am going to have to get tutored somehow, if I can stop cursing first so that a tutor will deal with the real me.