Why Purdy's is necessary

You may have noticed that I complain a lot about my relationships with anything techy.  For example, the lovely-looking Chromebook, which when we were considering to buy it was complimented by everyone with whom we discussed it, has actually taken over the process in which it will work.  And that has no connection to the way it lets Dave use it or any one else.  As I type, it decides I'm on the wrong page and leaves the one I'm on, without my request, and opens up Facebook or something I've never seen before in the 20 or so years I've been online.

I respond in several different ways, most of them falling in the "emotional" kind of thing which ranges from deep breath to nasty not-for-kids yelling while I walk away to another part of the condo.  (I just had to move words that I'd typed in a

reasonable way which the laptop decided to do this with it) and then it just laughed at me and moved those words 3 blank lines away from where I typed them. I moved them back.  So there!

I need to be able to be online, so I'll continue to work this out



But seriously...I did nothing to get from "out" to this place.  The Chromebook did it.

Actually, I intended to talk about the ways I am trying to just accept what happens between me and laptops and phones and Kindle.  I'm a retired person and if it takes me 3 times more as anyone else to write a post, I'll live with that, rather than act like a whiny kid.  However, after I got part way through the last sentence, Chromebook sent me to my Inbox.

All this to say that I have the box of Purdy Chocolates that my son sent for Christmas within arm's reach, and that I added a small fountain to my desk, and the sound is lovely and serene, which is what I'd like to attain for myself. Techy be damned.

Yikes!!, for which I usually blame myself

I have a thing about pockets.  When I'm shopping, it's the first thing I check out and it is often the decision point. 

Strangely, although I want pockets, I hardly use them and find myself carrying, in bags, things that would just beautifully fill in the pockets of my jacket.  And I've noticed the un-use of pockets happens more in my jeans and pants than in my shirts and coats. All this has, up to now, been not much of a problem of any kind.

Yesterday though, putting my favourite lipstick in my jeans pocket led to a very distressing outcome...just the very thing no one wants to see happen. Getting the wash started, I forgot I had anything in my hardly-ever used pockets and tossed our dark clothes in the washer.  

They all came out shining with more or less pinkish-red shapes, shapes that had not been there before the wash, and that was my first clue that something had gone awry. As I yanked everything out of the washer, the top part of the lipstick case landed on the floor. (the rest is probably going to show up next time I do a white wash)

Dave, and probably some of our neighbours, heard my rather loud and definitely unacceptable response to the pinkness.  It had nothing to do with possibly ruined clothes and all to do with my self-respect.  "How could I have done something so stupid?"  is how I started.......

 When Dave just brushed it all off saying something about how it could happen to anyone and how easily it could be dealt with, I actually started laughing, which is not at all like me in similar semi-disastrous events.  

Most of the clothes released the stains when I used a super-cleaner so it's no problem for them. The lipstick had been my favourite one and now I can't remember its name, so I don't come out of this totally OK but I did get a lesson in what's forgivable  and what might just happen to people who are in the last half of 70.

Fixes everything!!

I Didn't Wake Up This Grumpy

This morning I have been reading a book I know I would have loved ten years ago, "Bruno, Chief of Police" by Martin Walker.  Bruno is a charming man, but dammit, I can't keep both the people and the mystery in my brain at the same time.

I would like to see an Old Folk section at Chapters that would provide us with books of no more than 4 important characters, no pets, (especially those with names like Gigi and Bobby so you keep thinking mistakenly that they are more people in the story), and no more than 3 possible killers of the important characters.  Also it would be a  lovely addition to have a built-in movable ribbon that   tells you where you left off the story.

And while I'm at it, Chapters, please put more chocolate bars at the pay desk.  It only makes sense that I need to focus on books where the books are and chocolate where it brings additional joy to my visit to Chapters.  Thank you.

Dreams of Germany - Träume von Deutschland

Years and years ago, I spent 4 years in Germany.For the first 18 months, we lived in a small village where we had been able to rent a one-bedroom apartment, which seemed like heaven, mostly because it was next door to the local bakery, so we could start the day
with warm croissants. That was just one of the unusual things about our new life: my refrigerator was about 2 feet high, so we had to go to the market nearly every day and buy small amounts of things that we were going to eat that day. 

 Chris and I would take a basket, buy a small bottle of milk and whatever meat we were going to have that day and everyone we passed on the street said Gutentag and would chuck Chris under the chin.

 
All of these memories came back this week because I bought a new duvet cover. I had never even heard of a duvet before I moved to Allagen in Germany and was thrilled to have one,
which I would shake out and tuck under the mattress until one day my landlady came by and showed me the correct way to shake it out the window and then fold it down to the end of the bed and use my hand to make a V in the middle. I felt very European doing that.

So I'm back to feeling European again....Gute Nacht!

So I looked at us in a new way

I often use Blogger as a place to babble, other times to find out, by writing about it, how I feel about something.  This time I know how I feel.

I feel pissed off and I'm desperately beating myself up for it.

When Dave said he was going to get his hip bones replaced, I remember I thought what a good idea that was.  I was thinking of him, and how the pain in his hips was making his usual activities either hurtful or impossible. I was right. 

The surgery is exactly what he needed in order to keep himself active, and to do when he's recovered from surgery, the things he loves, like biking all over the place since we live in such a beautiful part of Ontario, or strolling around our pleasant neighbourhood.  We knew how long it would take him to recover his ability to walk.  I had no problem with that.  I don't know why, but I just accepted how it would be good for him and off we went.

He had his operation,which thankfully went well, and after a few days bedridden in hospital----a very good hospital (the Montfort Hospital which I would recommend to anyone) we came home with the help of my brother Sean who stayed with us for a few days to help Dave move about when he needed that help. He was very thoughtful and useful and after we felt we knew what was going on, he went back home.

 Dave has been getting around the house using a walker with a couple of wheels.  It is not fast or easy for him. Because of the change that comes with his being unable to  walk easily, I've been made aware of the difference in our responsibilities in running the house, and I've had to take on many of them.  The others just wait for him to be mobile again.

I am able....I am strong.....I normally do a lot around the house. I just didn't realize how much of what gets done for us both is done by him, and that all those things still need getting done. I also didn't realize how much of the day, up to now, I spend drinking coffee, eating snacks or sipping wine, which I do sitting down, or reading books, again done sitting down, being alone but accessible.

 My new understanding had made me feel happy that I never chose nursing as my lifework.

I hope I am sounding selfish and shamed, because I certainly am both of those things, at the same time that I am so grateful for the surgery, and so looking forward to his being able to ride his bike or to drive the car out to places where he can use his skis or snowshoes.

It has been a real lesson, and one I'm dismayed to have been so late in learning.

In which I feel worried about stuff done in the kitchen

I never took great joy in cooking or baking but I did have a few things that other people seemed to like, which made me sort-of-joyful. A friend had given me a great recipe for oatmeal bread, and I'd been lucky in making rice puddings and the best, the really best! bread-pudding.  It worked so well that anyone who ate it always asked for the recipe.

Here it is:
one-half cup raisins,6 to 8 slices of day-old bread, 3 tablespoons of butter, 2 cups of milk, half a cup of sugar, i teaspoon of vanilla extract and 2 eggs.
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.  Put raisins in a cup of hot water to soak for 5 minutes; grease a baking dish; tear up bread into the dish; drain and add raisins,; melt butter and pour over bread; heat milk and sugar until steaming, add vanilla; beat eggs lightly, add hot milk gradually to the eggs. pour over the bread.  Cook 25 minutes . (you may want to substitute chopped dried apricots or dried cranberries) Enjoy!

So, why did I post a recipe today?  Because Dave, who usually does the complicated cooking, has had his hips replaced and needs to look after himself, which includes not standing up in the kitchen for the half-hour or so it takes to mix the recipe. That means that I'm going to give it a try although I'm sure I haven't made this for years. When I saw this recipe, sent by me to Dave 1990 while he was in BC, I thought he might be happy to have this with our dinner tonight, and also, I could put off this scary baking for another half-hour while I write a blog.

Now there is a danger that 2 people who love each other will have to gently support the other if this doesn't work. So I thought if Dave knew I'd included others he might just be ecstatic over this Bread-pudding .

A "yay!" would help.✌

Not really politics....

We've just taken an October drive in the country when we would normally love looking at orange, red and yellow leaves but it disappointed us as everything is still looking very green.

In my mind, autumn is a beautiful few weeks that helps us to relearn that we live in Canada, a four- season country. In reality, for a few years, our weather has been something quite different, and I'm thinking that we're stuck with this new higgly-piggly surprise-us set of faux-seasons.

Now I have a new set of amazingly warm winter boots, a coat that is labeled as able to keep me warm even at 30 degrees below zero, two mittens that are about the size of those belonging to heavyweight wrestlers, and a laundry basket full of scarves.  That'll keep me warm.  I also have a fall coat, a midweight scarf or two and gloves that are just meant to look good. I expect to be able to use both of them, for days at a time, in some kind of Russian manipulation of our climate.

Of course the Russian thing is probably because Dave and I have been watching "Homeland", a Netflix thing with Claire Danes, which seems to have finished in an unacceptable way.

Imagine, weather and politics in one blog.