Drat!! doomed!

Many times I have said, "I'm doomed!"

Today, I have to say it again.  I normally do not watch TV in the daytime, but I did today and now I'm doomed.

Thought I might iron a shirt I bought not knowing it wasn't permanently pressed, turned on the TV and found myself watching "Andromeda".  Goodness! Everyone onscreen was sweating off make-up, the only black woman was in mini black leather and bracelets that must have been made right on her arm, and they mentioned "Neitzsche" twice in the 20 minutes left when I tuned in. I couldn't turn away.  Its campiness was sweet and potentially addictive.

I think I might have seen this show at least once before, because the hero and his minions looked familiar but I am going to have to be sure to move my ironing time to a different place.  An hour later and it would have been "Castle".

Excuse me, Mr Trudeau....

We have almost all our Christmas gifts wrapped and sitting somewhere safe, or under the tree, so why do I still have 4 bags of Christmas bags and one of Christmas boxes?  Many of these, and many of the ones we stuffed things in this year are being re-used, some for the umpteenth time and there are at least 8 that my talented sister sewed in pretty Christmas fabrics to send gifts from Calgary over the years.

I believe in re-using and recycling.  I do, even though it's a pain in the ass to collect and store them.  It's just that every year the size of the current gifts don't match with the re-usable bags.  The re-usable ribbon takes ages to untangle, the re-usable tags made from last year's cards require steady cutting hands which I no longer have.

So, Government of Canada:  There should be a law.

So many people have said this better

Every year, with the first snowfall, I feel like the luckiest person in the world to live where I live.  It is absolutely blindingly, blingingly beautiful looking out the window.  I am going to maximize the feeling with a walk in a few minutes, protected by several layers of clothing and scarf, hat and mittens.

I will try, and probably fail, over the next few weeks, not to moan about the cold, the snow, the semi-walking, semi-sliding, the falling, the losing of gloves, the running of nose, the freezing of earrings, the wetness of feet no matter what length your boots are.

You're welcome.

It's All About....

The 6th of December is normally the day in which I come to the conclusion that Christmas is coming.  And I've done that.  I'm wondering if I can manage the Christmas season at the same time as the Trump stuff, Aleppo, remembrance of the Montreal killings, the hope for closure on the DAPL issue and the continued concern for US friends who are wondering if they have to get back in the closet.

I've made a good start: lists and hidden presents and wishing Dave wanted something I could find for him that was more personal than a donation to his favourite charity.  

Well, between Para 1 and Para 2, I'm wondering if I really need 3 hours of sleep a night.

That's right: it's all about me.

How to help old friends

I have a dear friend; she and I have been friends since we were 13, I introduced her to the man she married, and we stayed close even when we lived far away. 

We knew each others family (I had a crush on her older brother, but nothing came of that) we went to the same school, the Convent of the Sacred Heart in Halifax, danced at the same Teen Club and shared many of the same friends.

She and her husband, Jean-Guy, had some hard times: Jean-Guy had two heart transplants, their only daughter died young, leaving her two children to be raised by their grandparents, and her husband died at 64. Dave and I were there for many of these times.  After his death, she became ill herself, and has been mostly bedridden for 7 or 8 years.

As a part of her illness, her speech became difficult to understand, and because I'm hard (read hard) of hearing, we don't spend as much time together as we did.  Dave took over the place I'd had in her life, and has been with her on at least one day out of every seven, doing her shopping, attending her doctor and hospital needs, lawn-caring, banking and helping with maintenance of the house she's lived in for over 40 years.

She needs to be somewhere where she can be cared for but she is not ready to accept that, and continues to live in the main floor of her house, which she's had adapted so that she can walk, with difficulty, while holding onto bars on the wall.

Last Thursday she had 3 falls during the day, and on the last one, she fell into or on top of her wheelchair, leaving her scraped, hurt and helpless.  She has an alarm, which for some reason, she didn't use.  She called me, and with the help of my brother I could hear that she wanted me to come over but from her voice and the calls to God and the Blessed Virgin, I could tell that she needed medical help, which she didn't want. Dave who wasn't reachable, has a key to her house, but I don't and she was upset that whoever came to help would have to break down her door. I finally made her promise to call the paramedics, but she didn't and instead called someone who drives her to hospital and doctor appointments when Dave isn't available.  Luckily, he called the paramedics, he had a key, and off she went to hospital.

I hate it that my second thought after hearing she was sore but doing well in hospital the next day was to be overjoyed that she would now have to accept her situation and that we would help her move from her house to a care facility.  She did accept it, for a few hours anyway, but now refuses to go anywhere but home.

When I think about it clearly, I know that we are assisting her in her determination to stay in her home.  When I see her, I remember her pride in her place and know how much she worked to get that house and make it exactly what she wanted.  Dave and I try to be as practical as we can, and when that's done, we talk about how we can't understand why she is so determined (but we say"stubborn").

Boy, could I ever give someone else in the same position some good advice!

On this 15th of November

It gets harder and harder to write posts, which is very weird because I have so many random yet compelling issues I need to work through. Having said that, I caught myself wanting to make a list, and here it is:

• nothing I can share
• little I can fix
• much that I can mull over to keep from making decisions

When will I learn?

I remember writing a post a few years ago about my dilemma.  If you wake up at 3 o'clock, do you have a cup of coffee to start your day or a glass of wine to finish it off?

At that time, I almost always chose, in vain, to have a glass of wine, and maybe a Pirouline biscuit.  Then I would read for a couple of hours and go back to bed around 6.  This of course, only added to my time-management problem because I'd wake up around 9, starving, but unwilling to consider breakfast as an option.  
I'd do all the houseworky things I needed to do until I felt I'd punished myself enough to have coffee, which I would have loved to have had in bed had I not just arranged all 5 of the sparkly cushions in that very place.

Looking back it seems nothing like a dilemma and everything like a privileged yet guilt-ridden life.

I'm at it again.