There is another snow storm followed by ice rain headed our way; supposed to start later today, in fact. My HABS team is playing tonight, and with only satellite reception out here, I’m keeping my fingers crossed that we’ll be able to see the game.

Karen’s two month stay with her son involved watching Toronto Raptors’ basketball. Her enthusiasm for the sport rubbed off on me, as mine for hockey did on her, so now we usually are watching one or the other every night. The mouthy bird couldn’t be more pleased; she gets to hear plenty of cheering and/or swearing on a daily basis. The beasts take all the hollering in stride. Once upon a time (was much younger then) I would jump up and dance when we scored, and the dogs living here then would join me. Pretty much the only movement I do now is working my jaw, so the present three occasionally lift their heads if I’m too loud, or totally ignore it otherwise.

My boys showed up on Sunday, but unfortunately not at the same time. The youngest removed the snow from the garage doors while we chatted with my lovely DIL and the 2^nd Rugrat, then they needed to get back home. They adopted a young stray rescue pup a few weeks ago and are like new parents – it’s so cute – and another lost animal has found a home. Love it!!

My oldest son and Little Flea arrived later for Sunday supper. It’s March break this week, and he booked vacation to spend it with his daughter. They have activities planned for each day. This coming Sunday is his wife’s birthday and finally, the first time since Covid, the whole family will be here to celebrate together. Karen’s homemade pizzas are to die for, and that will be on the menu with home fries, and cake of course, enjoyed with much love and laughter – a given when those kids are together.

Some here in Blogit may remember ‘My Lady’s Story’ that I posted a couple of years ago? I have brought it out, dusted it off and am working on it again. I’m also attempting to continue ‘Letters to a Wayward Brother’, posted under Stories from the Bush in Quebec. It’s disturbing how difficult it is to get back into decent writing when we haven’t done it for a while, or is that just me? The imagination is working fine, but to transfer it to paper in a legible and interesting read is another thing altogether. I won’t even mention editing that follows. UGH!

That’s it for today, folks. I have some major housecleaning to do before the gang shows up this weekend, so will reluctantly get to it. The snow is already falling, and that could mean loss of electricity before the day is out, and vacuum cleaners won’t run on hope alone, nor does the pump work for water. It is a terrific excuse if the job doesn’t get done though, and that makes me SMILE!

Sharing it with you as usual; hope it arrives under clear blue skies and sunshine!

LUV FROM THE BUSH IN QUEBEC

I haven’t posted for 8 days, and am sitting here wondering what I actually DID do for the past week; seems to me it was a lot of absolutely nothing! Not because there isn’t plenty to get done, mind you. It feels like I’ve slipped into a hibernation mode.

I did read a book. The title is ‘Sold on a Monday’ and it is by Kristina McMorris. I enjoyed it; well written, a gripping tale with some surprising twists. Any story about children seems to click with me, and this is really one of the better ones in my opinion.

My daughter and I usually chat on Messenger around 5 AM every morning. This time she had sad news. She and her SO received a phone call at 11 the night before to say that her MIL had died suddenly of a heart attack. Both were close to the smart, fun-loving lady, and were still in shock. After I consoled her as best I could, I returned to bed, having spent most of the night wide awake for no particular reason. I hadn’t been sleeping long when the beasts jumped up, barking that someone was here. I thought maybe it was the snow removal man, but after a moment their tone changed. They have a special bark for each of their visitors, and this sounded like a Karen-greeting. But she was still in Toronto…or was she? They were right, of course, and when I scrambled out from the blankets and stumbled into the hallway, there she stood! Finally home! It was great to see her again, and we had much catching up to do.

Other than that, we had snow, and more snow, and 24 hours of freezing rain that knocked out the hydro lines for a day. It’s snowing again as I write this. I know people are fed up and wishing for spring, but I could only gaze at the beauty of the winter scenes, and think again how grateful I am to be living in a country with the 4 seasons.

Both of my sons will be here later today, one of them with the snow blower to clear the front of the garage door so that Karen can get her car outside, and the other with Little Flea for his usual Sunday supper. I need to get busy and make bread and some kind of dessert – not sure what yet – and to do some light housekeeping.  I did read some of the news with my morning coffee, but no use discussing it. For the moment I’ll stick to the great feeling that my HABS won again last night, that I’ll have family in, and that here in the bush oasis we can all SMILE.

Wishing you all a lovely Sunday, and sending you some of those SMILES.

LUV FROM THE BUSH IN QUEBEC

Friday

Today was the day for callback from some potential employers, and they started early.

When I had met the accounting firm I was up front during the interview. Because the time they need the most help is during income tax season, I warned them that I had always handed that off to someone else, that I was more or less familiar with the new programs. I could have come home, downloaded a program and practiced for a few days if I had really been interested but…there was a reason I handed them off, right?

I did end up accepting a job that I think I will enjoy (the Sunday caller); something I had done years ago and, in spite of the salary, decided that it was worth a try. There is a short commute, but also short shifts at a time, so the beasts and Bird will not be alone for too long. It will probably give me Blog material too; working with the public usually does. To be continued.

Saturday, early AM

My blogging was interrupted yesterday, but I certainly enjoyed the reason. My daughter and grandson showed up here, shovels in hand, then proceeded to clear my gallery of the deep snow that fell on Thursday night. They did in one hour what would have taken me at least the whole afternoon. My family won’t accept money for helping out, but they are not against Mémère digging into her freezer and pulling out homemade goodies. With my love of cooking, it’s a win-win situation.

I knew my son and Little Flea were coming for supper, and was even more delighted when I received a call on Facetime, and my granddaughter was wondering if maybe she could bring her pj’s and have a sleepover. As if I would ever say no! After an interesting discussion on the improvement of our NHL team over a hot meal, the rest of my evening was spent in the magic of Little Flea’s imagination, her bath, her bedtime story, her cuddles, and many, many SMILES.

Sending some off to you, once again riding on huge flakes of snow.

LUV FROM THE BUSH IN QUEBEC

And there it is – 3 interviews done in as many days, not counting the applications sent out over the internet. Predominant in all this is my confusion with the salaries offered. Companies and establishments complaining about lack of personnel, but only willing to pay amounts that are just on or below poverty level. Because I’ve done accounting including financial statements for various enterprises with similar activities, I know for a fact that, with their profit margin, they can afford to treat their employees better. Covid aside, the commerce that will be fair with their workers will have more success in the long run. It has been proven time and again. It’s becoming a habit, this shaking my head at the lack of insight for much of the population.

Two of the on-line applications for remote work were interesting (with decent wages), and I had a telephone interview with one of them yesterday morning. Unfortunately, my internet is not up to par for their requirements. We have satellites out here, but they want cable, which will only be installed in this area sometime in September 2022. 

On to other things. My sister is home from the hospital and taking blood thinners for the clots still in her lungs. Quarantine will be over for my grandsons and their families this weekend and, happily, none of them were terribly sick with it. NHL games are back on the TV and my mouthy bird had stopped the continuous loud squawking; one has to wonder if she really DOES need a weekly dose of profanity to be happy, because that’s what she gets when my team plays badly, which is regularly lately.

It is quite warm here, and will be raining the whole day, before starting to snow again for the next 6 days, predicted by TWN, with temperatures hovering the freezing mark. It’s reminding me of the weather that brought on our Ice storm in 1998. Wouldn’t that be the icing on the cake?

But that’s tomorrow, and we’re still today. The beasts and I had a short night, and this kind of weather is perfect to go back to bed and curl up with a book while they cuddle, then tonight another hockey game to satisfy the bird, all worth a SMILE!

Sharing it with you folks – an umbrella with that?

LUV FROM THE BUSH IN QUEBEC.

So I have one telephone and two in-person interviews to do this week. I received the call for the second in-person interview this morning.

A Sunday.

Times sure have changed. Where I was raised, Sunday’s were sacred. The day of rest. You did what had to be done – milk the cows, feed the animals – then that was it except for those who attended church.

Anyway, of the three, the call I got this morning is the one that interests me the most. Sure beats doing income tax. UGH! Many things to consider before choosing; salary, hours, commuting or not and, most importantly, will I enjoy it?

On a better subject, ‘my son’ took Little Flea to the movie theatre last night. It was her initiation, she had never been there. The first text I received:

“I’m a bit nervous, cause we went to buy candies at the dollar store so we don’t have to pay $20 for a bag of skittles…but for sure Miko will squeal on us.”

Then after a few minutes:

“Already she says to the lady at the Dollar Store that we’re bringing candies to the movie. Thirty seconds after I explained to her to not talk about the candies. Thirty seconds for Heaven’s sakes!”

I hadn’t finished giggling before I learned that Little Flea didn’t want ‘my son’ to bring those candies into the theatre. That was what she called cheating. He talked her into it eventually.

Somewhat later another text came in. There was a fire alarm. Everyone had to evacuate. “Great first experience!” he wrote. It ended up being false and they were allowed back inside.

“So after we are all back in our seats, the guy said we will rewind the movie 20 minutes. All the parents were…no no no! They backed it up like 5 minutes.”

Little Flea and ‘my son’ came for their usual Sunday supper tonight, and she said that she enjoyed the experience, would have liked to have gone back today, but that the next movie she wanted to see was in theatres only April 12^th. She’s knows and remembers all this stuff. At that age I think I was still counting on my fingers, and I’m pretty sure I knew nothing whatsoever about dates months ahead. I imagine I am not the only grandparent amazed at what our kids know as compared to what we knew then. I also imagine our own grandparents thought the same about us. We have come a long way, and our kids and grandkids are keeping up the trend.

That makes me SMILE.

Sharing it with you, folks, icicles and all!

LUV FROM THE BUSH IN QUEBEC

I filled out forms on various employment agent sites, indicating on each form that I wanted part time work and, ideally, remote, so that I could stay at home and avoid commuting. I have been bombarded with available positions, but they clearly did not pay attention to the words ‘part time’ nor ‘remote’.  A few did look promising, at least open to negotiation, and for those I completed the application papers and sent them off with a copy of my CV. Age is a factor, obviously; there is some basic training required for any new hire, and employers are reluctant to spend the time and the money on someone who may last a couple of years as compared to a younger person who may stay 10 years or more.

While all this was going on, I was contacted by an ex-employee, who completed her required formation at our city office in 2009 or thereabouts. Since then she has been working for an accountant in our village, and they need help. The part time is acceptable, and some remote maybe, but the commute is short. The salary offered is much lower, in fact it’s what I was making 40 years ago. It also involves my pet aversion: income tax. I have an interview next week with her boss. We shall see.

In the meantime, Covid has infected the family. Both my grandsons (my daughter’s boys) and their SO’s have the virus. Fortunately I haven’t seen them for the past 3 weeks, and they are quarantined now, so I should still be safe for the moment. The friend where I dropped off the food package a couple of weeks ago is also in quarantine for the same reason.

My son, Little Flea’s daddy, was to have his biopsy on February 2^nd, but when he arrived his surgeon was at the Emergency, so all was delayed until March 9^th.  They did tell him that his kidney will be removed first, the tumor is large, and the liver would be treated later; we’re not sure if the chemo will happen in between the 2 procedures or just after it’s all done. With the hospitals so busy with Covid, it’s a touch and go schedule. And I have just learned that one of my sisters is in the ICU with blood clots on her lungs and now around her heart. I guess this is our turn to get hit, and we’ll need to stand up and deal with it. Our family has had many years of blessings, so slightly unprepared, but when the going gets tough, the tough get going, right?

The NHL has finished its break, and the TV has been turned back on. My team has a new coach (finally!) and last night they actually played some decent hockey! And that’s all it takes to make me SMILE.

Sending out your share; it’s meant to brighten you day a little!

LUV FROM THE BUSH IN QUEBEC

Pistache started with the noisy screeching when my son, Bow, and Little Flea were here Sunday night for supper. Bow, who is one of the very few able to approach that bad tempered fowl, remarked that she was more loud and annoying than usual.

“I don’t know why,” I told him. “Her cage is clean, she had food and fresh water and she got her seeds already. She has been like this for a couple of days now. Hard on the nerves!”

“What’s that all about, Pistache?” he asked her. Although he stayed seated, his chair was close to the cage. Hearing her name she quieted, cocking her head to listen, just uttering a couple of peeps in recognition, until he turned away from her. And the squawking started again.

Pistache is a Quaker parrot, so it’s expected that she be quite social, and very vocal. She is from a rescue, adopted by my ex DIL when she was approximately 9 years old, and we know nothing about her life before that. When she came to live with me, it took her awhile to warm up to the hand that feeds, waters and cares for her, but she’ll be nice to both my boys when she’s in the mood.  Anyone else is regarded as an intruder, and an unwelcome one at that. Her bites can hurt; she can draw blood on occasion.

I wondered aloud if maybe she was missing the hockey games which are delayed for the Olympic period. “I usually roll her cage over beside my easy chair when I’m watching the games,” I said. “She’ll hang off her cage and nibble on my shoulder or cheek while I’m sitting there. She gets a vocabulary lesson at the same time, especially if our team is playing badly,” He knew what I was saying; I tend to get carried away by my passion for the game. My couch coaching is a family standing joke.

“Maybe the lack of that attention,” Bow agreed.

“But I’m more here than inside my back office recently,” I added. “I even brought my laptop out so that I can keep her and the beasts company while I write. She sees me more now than she ever did. True, I’m not exactly paying attention just to her, but at least we’re all together in the same room.”

While we were chatting, my Little Flea had wandered into the kitchen. From the corner of my eye, I saw her walk past her dad with the bottle of dried fruit treats. I watched as she opened it and took out a piece, then moved towards Pistache’s cage. “Miko, what are you doing?” I asked. She didn’t answer, and continued her route, holding out the fruit in her hand.

“Hey, she’ll bite! Watch it!” Her dad exclaimed. Miko ignored him too, instead she went closer to Pistache and made her offering. The bird leaned towards the child and, ever so gently, took the fruit in her beak, then settled back to quietly eat it. My son and I looked at each other.

“She didn’t bite her!” my son laughed, his tone unbelieving.

“No, she didn’t.” I agreed, surprised too, but mostly relieved. Miko didn’t even look at us when she walked back towards the kitchen to replace the jar.

“She’s quiet now.” She told us. I’m caught her dad’s eye again and shrugged.

“Her explanation for everything,” I nodded. “Her magic.”

And we both SMILED

Sending it out to y’all, brimming with magic!

LUV FROM THE BUSH IN QUEBEC

I’ll have to quit watching or reading the news. Again.

Being curious, I like to know what is going on around us, but it has become too much. I spend much of my time shaking my head at the manipulation and misinformation floating out there, and the gullible, selfish acceptance of it all by an astonishing segment of the population, the cruelty towards both animals and people, and the idiocy of book burnings. Because I read it usually while drinking my coffees (yes, that’s plural) in the morning, it sets my day off on the wrong foot. There it is. I’ll be on a no-news-diet for a few days.

It was exactly that, the usual aggravation after attention to CBC and Facebook, which made me decide to do something I very rarely do; watch a movie. Friday night I went overboard, and binge watched the 4 Jason Bourne movies, one after the other. It was the story of more manipulation, exactly what I was attempting to avoid, but at least it was a STORY, and the manipulators paid for it in the end, mostly. I watched until 8 AM on Saturday morning, just pausing now and then for toilet breaks or to put more wood on the fire.

I purposely didn’t cover the mouthy parrot, childishly gleeful about payback; the TV was loud to compensate for the noise of the ceiling fans that distribute the fire’s warmth, and because the spies on the screen seemed to whisper a lot of the time. That bird had been cranky all day, squawking loudly no matter how I tried to soothe her. Now it was her turn to put up with the noise. So there! I did make it up to her somewhat when the binge was over by setting my laptop to parrot calls on Google, and let it play for nearly an hour while I prepared for the day. I ran out of steam around 10:30 and the beasts and I went to bed. Most of the beautiful, sunny day was spent snoozing. Not at all productive, but needs must. My mood was much better…until I read the news again last night. Before I became too upset, I closed down everything and returned to bed where, surprisingly, I slept wonderfully until 4:30 AM.

This morning I purposely ignored the news. I skimmed Facebook briefly, skipping over anything except friends’ posts and humorous quips. Then I closed it down. It will be music today, background to preparing a beef barley soup and cinnamon buns for my grandson and his family, and my son with Little Flea, who will be coming for an early supper. The bird has been uncovered and is reasonable, the beasts are sitting patiently waiting on their breakfast, and I’ve found my SMILE!

Sharing it with you, and wishing you a great day!

There’s this thing between me and plants. I’m not sure what to call it, I guess uneasy truce would describe it. Sort of. When any plant happens to fall under my ‘care’, it’s like an immediate telepathic exchange:

Me: Ummmm

Plant: Help!

 In my defense, although I was raised on a farm with immense gardens of vegetables, where there were also plenty of beautiful flowers and plants outside all along the verandah, the key word here is OUTSIDE; nature was their caretaker, and she did a wonderful job of it. Occasionally inside the house would be cut blooms, for which no special attention was required, mostly trilliums and violets that we kids would present to our foster parent on Mother’s Day. As for the gardens, well, I was young, so did what I was told to do. The planting, weeding, spraying was directed by someone who had a plan, and I never really paid much attention to the why or wherefore.

I knew before Karen moved in downstairs that she was an avid gardener and a plant aficionado. I certainly enjoy the fruits of her labour; the fresh veggies, the herbs, and the way the flowers and plants installed along the gallery brightened up the exterior of the house. I’ve mentioned in a previous blog how these were moved into the living room in late fall. I’ve also mentioned that they suddenly became my responsibility when Karen was called away for a while. Maybe I also hinted that they had been not looking so good?

Although I give them water once a week (whether they need it or not?) it seemed to me they were frowning (telepathically, of course) whenever I entered that room. I remembered reading somewhere that plants enjoy music, it makes them happy, so I decided to try it out. I fiddled with the TV in there until I could get the Stingray channels, then made my choice. Classical, I thought, that sounds about right. And classical it was. Whether it was the music or because I had watered them too, the next morning I imagined they looked better. Well, at least it didn’t feel like they were frowning. But there was a problem.

Between my bedroom and the living room is a double faced fireplace with vents, so I, TOO, heard the music.  All night. I don’t mind classical tunes, but all night, every night? Now it was me who was frowning. By the 3^rd evening I was fed up, so much so that I knew I had to change it. Rock? Maybe a bit much? After some consideration I decided to go with the Folk Roots channel. Happy medium.

You know what? I think it’s working! They look happier, and I’m not grinding my teeth to the continual sound of Bach. I’ll give it to the end of the week and, if I’m right, I’ll send Karen a photo. I’m sure it will make her SMILE.

With all the snow most of you folks have been getting, I’m hoping that this post about plants will make you SMILE too!

LUV FROM THE BUSH IN QUEBEC

Even in these freezing temperatures, I don’t put the heat on in my bedroom. I sleep better with lots of blankets and 3 big dogs sharing my bed for warmth. The floors are hardwood, so it does mean there’s a little dance in the morning until I can get the cold toes into a pair of comfy slippers. My bathroom is what one calls an ‘ensuite’, so there is no heat in there either, and that causes a short intake of breath as I plunk myself down on the chilly seat, especially in the middle of the night. It doesn’t encourage dawdling. However, as we all know, there are occasions when things cannot be rushed; the digestive system has the last word.

It was this kind of situation the other night. Haste had been required, so no time to scramble in the dark for slippers, and any warmth present in my bare feet when I got there was quickly absorbed by the icy tiles of the bathroom floor. There was no quick tinkle and a rush back to a cozy bed. This could take a while. Sitting there shivering brought back some vivid memories. Oh my!

The farm where we spent most of our childhood had no electric power nor running water. My brother and I were the youngest of the many foster children living there, and we soon learned the motto of the place was ‘The Devil has plans for idle hands’. We were still too small to milk the cows or chop wood, but we could mix the slop for the pigs, feed the chickens and geese, chase the goats out of the immense gardens and, very important, daily cut the used newspapers and catalogues into squares for the outhouse.

Each of the numerous bedrooms had a chamber pot, the bigger boys’ room contained two, which were to be used during the night only, and were to be religiously emptied every morning. The outhouse was at the other end of the long woodshed. It was quite a trek for short, little legs, so one tried not to forget the pot for the early A.M. visit, avoiding having to go there twice in a row.

In the summer the only disagreeable thing was the smell. You could get used to that though, especially if the square of comic strip you picked out of the box between the large and small holes cut into the seat was interesting, and truthfully, with that number of kids around, it was often the only place one could find some self-space for a bit.

Then there was the winter. The winter meant unzipping and pulling down a one piece snow suit, freezing fingers fumbling with the buttons of the first pair of lined pants, and usually a second pair, then the long underwear, and finally the undies, to finish by hauling yourself up onto that very, very cold hole where the wind nipped at your bottom, and sit there with your teeth chattering, trying your darndest to hurry things up. Even those squares of paper were cold!

And that was what I was remembering as I sat in my modern bathroom the other night, sleepily berating myself for not having at least a small heater in there for times like this. Still, the short distance to be covered before I could crawl back into the warmth of my bed takes no time compared to what it did on the farm, and my legs are much longer now.

I’ve come a long way, baby, and that thought makes me SMILE.

Sending it out to you, folks. A square of slippery catalogue with that?

LUV FROM THE BUSH IN QUEBEC.