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Nimble to Zen

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Fingers laced through the handle of my coffee cup

warming my hands

I gaze out through my patio door

It’s a colourless February day

Yesterday’s rain and wind have melted the piles of snow

But I know, winter is far from over.

I look up and see a squirrel scamper nimbly without a care

along the wires that criss-cross my backyard

From there he jumps onto an outstretched tree limb

runs along it then up and around the trunk, making

his journey all the more interesting

as no other beastie, two-legged or four

is chasing him and I see him no more

Was it that long ago that I was so intrepid?

Without a thought I would climb

to the top of the monkey bars

and stand on the summit, arms outstretched

fearless, though heart thumping

(there is no proof as no way would

mom or dad have approved)

There is not enough money in the world to get me to do that again.

©Ron Jones

Just last September, I gingerly made my way to my roof

stepped onto the rusty little table, then up onto the fence

(around my propane tank)

holding on for dear life to the house roof

as I hauled myself up onto the garage roof (lower)

I stood up, legs wobbly, heart pounding

but feeling exhilarated

(No matter that I have watched my son

hop, step and jump his way up with nary a care

sigh)

still

I am not so feeble that I daren’t try

And how it was worth it!

I may not be as nimble; I may not be as quick

but that’s okay because I still do things

that make my heart quicken and me feel alive

I have also learnt that it is quite okay

to step back, centre, stretch, meditate

and find my Zen

Even the squirrels find the time

 

 

 

Midnight (Close Enough) Walk

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*I handwrote most of this post in my Whatever Pages Book last night instead of typing it directly, as I try to unplug from all electronics a good hour (lucky if it’s a half-hour) before bed.  And I didn’t want to, once again, have an idea for a post but wait so long that it becomes too late, so…

After watching the flag-fest that was the the Eagles/49ers game and then foolishly watching the refs-are-off-the-deep-end Bengals/Chiefs game, B and I hung up in annoyance.  There were better ways to spend our time, we both thought.  During the half time of the second game, I went out to shovel the walkway.  I realised it was perfect out there and declared that I was going to for a walk after the game.  The more the farce game went on, the less I felt like going out there so I ended up on the internets, pfaffing away my time with comments here and there, until finally deciding around 11 pm, to hell with it, I was wasting my time again.  A much better use of said time was to go out.

I checked the temps:  -9℃, feels like -11℃ (16℉/12℉) and decided my rather thick leggings would suffice, though I put on my big Canadian-style boots, my only-when-it’s-at-least -10℃ coat, ski mitts and tuque, of course, and out the door I went.

Face-to-face with the half moon competing with the lamppost, I clicked a few, thinking I’ll use them for the Boucherville FB photo group and made my way to the nearby park.

I marvelled at how bright it was (the reason I prefer snow to rain in the winter, is it brightens everything) and the clouds were fascinating.

Don’t scratch your screen, it’s not dust, they’re stars 😉

As I approached the outdoor hockey rink (now equipped with a fantastic heated changing shed), I was surprised to find it empty.  Yo, Rog, it’s close to midnight on a Sunday, what did you expect?  I still expected, what can I say?  They play in much colder climes and often at night!

The rink
The shed – taken on another outing but here for clarification purposes

The crunch of my boots on the packed snow and the faraway beeps of the snowploughs readying the parking lots for tomorrow’s employees and patrons were the only sounds keeping me company.   The snow sparkled under the moon and the trees cast their shadow under the lampposts.

I am amazed that my hands are not freezing when I remove my mitts to take pictures. It’s weird, really. I have Raynaud’s Syndrome which only comes into play if I hold something cold.  But the cold itself doesn’t really bother them.  Well, obviously, in really cold temps, I needs must have those mitts on (gloves are useless for me) but I am amazed at how long I can go without before needing to warm them up again.

 

This just might be card-worthy…

I decide to simply walk the loop of the park, then make my way home.  It is late, after all, and my thighs are thinking it might have been nice to find themselves in warmer snow pants (it’s not that bad but go too far…)

I am surrounded by beauty.

And loathe to go home.

But it’s getting late… Now it’s close to midnight!  But just one more before I pick up the pace.

Oooh… No, this one!

On the last stretch, I encounter the first and only other human.  To my bonsoir! I receive nothing.  I choose to think he did not hear me.

I feel my cheeks getting more ruddy with each step.  My legs are going to be happy to find themselves wrapped in warm blankets.  Surely I will sleep well?

 

Morning Pages

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Whilst chatting with Bill, my favourite writing pluviophile, he mentioned something about doing his “Morning Pages”; or rather, that he had let himself slack off but would be getting back on track, or something to that effect.

What are Morning Pages, you ask?  I had to look it up.  This was invented by Julia Cameron and is described more fully in her book “The Artist’s Way”.  However, it was more a blog post by Shelby of “Little Coffee Fox”  that got me even more intrigued.

Apparently, this daily ritual can unleash our creative potential, so to speak – and not limited to the creativity in writing, either.  It can help artists of all sorts.  The point of this practice is to encourage us away from negative self-talk and away from the fear that holds us back.

Okay, sounds a little woo-woo but hey… I’ve been writing my gratitude journal for over fifteen years and what harm is there in going to bed thinking of five things to be grateful for?  It forces me to think of five positive things.  Some days the choices are slim but find them, I do.

So. how does this work?  Pretty simple.  Every morning, first thing, you dump your thoughts by writing three pages in longhand.  No plotting or strategizing, just stream of conscious writing.  Nothing pretty, punctuation and all that jazz doesn’t really matter.  The important thing is to simply write whatever comes to mind and to not stop until you have three pages worth.  What if you run out of things to say?  Find anything.  Just do it.  Oh, and here’s the best part.

NEVER READ WHAT YOU WRITE.

More importantly,

NEVER LET ANYONE ELSE READ WHAT YOU WRITE.

It’s a brain dump. Let it out.  And let it go. You can’t let it go if you go back to it, can you?

Alrighty then.  I am three days in.  A little early to see if anything comes from it but I like what Glitter Guide said after she tried it for thirty days:  she missed her therapist a bit less and her mind felt less cluttered as she started the day.  Did she have any big creative breakthroughs?  No. But she was open to the possibility.

And so am I.

Now, if I can just stop calling them Morning Papers maybe Prince will stop taking up space in my head…

 

Easy-Breezy Sundays

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If every summer day was like today, I would be in heaven.  25℃ (feels like 27℃) or, for you Yanks, 77℉ (feels like 81℉).  The sun is shining but are were puffy white clouds passing by, breaking up the blue and momentarily giving breaks from the direct rays. The breeze is warm and steady at 30km/h with gusts up to 39km/h (19mph, and 24mph).  The tree leaves rustle, the birds sing and traffic sounds so far away it is a barley discernable hum.

It is now late afternoon and all the neighbours, myself included, have mowed our lawns; no more sounds of circular saws or hammering or other chores needed, and now, we can sit by our pools or on our patios or right in the grass, having earned our time of respite, and just be one with the world. 

Trying to hide from the lawnmower by looking like a potted plant
A well-deserved break

Of course there is supper to be made but I’ve actually planned ahead, sorta, kinda maybe.  The salmon “should” be thawed by the time I’m ready, right?  Plus, supper won’t be at least until 7:00 pm today…  In the meantime, I am catching up on my reading – I am participating in Sammi’s Lord of the Rings re-read.  It’s fun. We read a half-chapter per week, then “discuss” on her blog in her Tolkien Tuesday.  I was behind by four weeks!  Tomorrow we shall be discussing the first half of Chapter 11: A Knife in the Dark.  It’s fun to get the opinions and thoughts of others (we are 4-6 regulars who participate) on each segment.

I was actually serenaded by a robin as I enjoyed the afternoon.  How can one not appreciate that?

The BBQ is cooking my salmon and my rice is in its last resting five minutes.  The asparagus are just about to get some grilling and I may actually be joined by the other residents of this household for supper, like at the same time as me.  Whoa. 

Grillin’
Platin’

We so enjoyed the different flavours brought out by the barbecue, it had me wondering why I barely used it last year.  I shall definitely rectify the situation this year. 

I’m also wondering why the hell we did not eat outside, especially since at the time we ate (8:00), the non-existent roof on my gazebo (ripped last year and needs to be replaced) wouldn’t have mattered as the sun had moved away from the house.  Much as I love to eat outside, I do not love to eat in full sun and will never understand those who do.  To each his and her own, I say.

*Special note:  I was so enjoying the day yesterday that I finished posting today, Monday 😉 

 

The Little Things – Friday Fictioneers

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It’s Wednesday!  And that can mean many things.  Over here in blogland, it means the start of Friday Fictioneers (don’t ask, just know!) Rochelle has dragged, encouraged me to play by ever so sweetly asking me to use my photo.  How could I refuse?  More importantly, why would I?  Should you feel so encouraged, please do add your link to your 100-word story by clicking on the frog below.  G’head. I dare you!

Frog with rose Royalty Free Vector Image - VectorStock

G’head! Click to play!

It doesn’t take much, you know. To be made to feel more than, rather than less than, or worse, inconsequential.  Sure, the big things are nice and all but in the grand scheme of things, those things are just accumulated stuff.  Some stuff you really enjoy. Some you don’t know why the hell you keep except for some misguided sense of obligation.  And, if you are not careful, you lose sight of the things you love most amidst said stuff.

It might be cliché but actions do speak louder.  Small ones.  Big ones.  Ones that make sense only to you.

Stuff and Things and an Update

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It’s been three weeks since I last wrote a post.  Oh, there are quite a few drafts with great intentions and little else but other than that? Zip.  The first week, I was basically sans motivation, feeling some sort of ennui, no, not ennui, more of a malaise of sorts.  At the same time, I was actively looking for a job which I’m now thinking was causing more stress than I thought.

The result? My immune system must have been compromised and to celebrate the first day of spring, I got damn COVID. Thank you, son.  After being sick on arriving at work on Tuesday morning, March 15, Iain’s boss sent him home.  He slept all day and had a headache.  The next day, feeling fine, he went to get a test and sent me this picture with the text:

“noooooooooo”.

I respond with : “Fuuuuuuuuuuck”.

And he with:  “so weak. shameful performance” (must be said with Uncle Roger’s accent)

I showed the photo to my boss who said:  “Now you have to go home”.  I thought it was kind of ridiculous, being 4:00 p.m. with just one more hour to go.   Still. I packed my stuff and off home I went where I have been working since. Why, you ask? Technically I need quarantine for five days. Well, let me tell you why.  (Oh, and by the way, Iain took his required five days off and returned to work on Monday.)

Thursday and Friday, work from home.  I’m good with that, especially because I have two job interviews on Thursday afternoon and now I no longer need to find an excuse to leave the office for half an hour.

Friday, take a test – negative. So I am good to go for dinner at my buddy Linda’s for an overdue dinner and a chinwag. We are reasonable this time and I am home before midnight.

Saturday, go for a fantabulous 45-minute run/walk. I am feeling fantastic.

Sunday. Wake up sick.  Take a test:  negative.  Hmm.  Okay then, must be a head cold. Or a sinus thing because my head is ready to explode and my head is full of, well, let me leave that to your imagination.  I text my boss, apologizing for disturbing her on a Sunday evening and tell her that there is no way I can go in and that I am also taking a sick day.  I took three.

However, Monday, I was supposed to go for another interview – in-person, this time. I contact the placement agent and tell her no way can I go.  She asks me if I can do a Teams meet and I say, I think I can make it through one of those (rather sick but can manage to not cough or blow my nose for half an hour…)  I was supposed to, originally, go for a site visit with the people I interviewed with on Thursday but had to cancel that, obviously.

All is well. The Teams interview goes so well, they send me an offer!  Well, how do you like them apples?  Problem is, I cannot respond as the first one I had on Thursday really interests me and I cannot make a decision without going for the site visit. (Plus, I didn’t really want the one offered as it was, once again, a position obliging me to sit at the reception. Non merci.)

Random photo – Hanging with the cats

My agent asks me if I think I could go for a site visit on Wednesday morning.  I say yes (probably should not have but decisions need to be made!)  I make sure I touch no one and nothing and my mask remains in place.  They are just as welcoming as I felt during our original interview.  I thank them for the visit, ever anxious to get back home and into bed but wait!  I have yet another interview at noon!  Bloody hell.

The interview goes well but I have the feeling the potential boss is one of those hard-ass women who says (too often) how open her door is and how she arrives with a smile and leaves with one.  I have the distinct feeling of. Nope.  Which is fine and dandy because Clemex, the company I interviewed for on Thursday and visited that morning?  They make me an offer that surpasses the one I got on Monday. Woot!

I call my boss on Wednesday afternoon, after I got the offer and break the news to her.  She takes it well, is not surprised but is happy for me as she knows the company cannot really offer me anything challenging at the time.  I promise to her to try to update all the administrative documents so that the next person they hire has something to go on.

I work from home Thursday and Friday.  On Saturday, (it is now March 26), my sister invited me over to watch her daughter, my goddaughter, Ariane, play volleyball in the Canadian national championships.  However, she asks me to test myself again just in case.

I feel you, Omelette!

Dammit.  Positive.

So this past week I have been working from home, trying to train someone on some of my duties via Teams and wishing this persistent cough will just leave me the hell alone. As long as it’s present, I cannot go anywhere!

I now have my last three work days ahead of me, with a lunch planned for Wednesday and I don’t even know if I will be able to go in!  I have this frog in my throat with an occasional unproductive cough, still.

*** UPDATE ***

Had to go to the pharmacy to pick up dye for my daughter today and decided to get myself a cough suppressant and a COVID test.

Great news!  I am now officially negative.

One last thing. I participate in a Facebook Photo Group and last week the theme was reflections.  I discovered this one taken last year and Wow! How had I not noticed this when I took it?  It’s what actually inspired me to write this post.  Well, the original plan was to simply use it as inspiration for a poem.  It is, after all, NaPoWriMo month, so why not a little poetry to end things?

 

Fighting through congestion

One thought begets another

A sleepless night, once again

Path has since cleared

With gratitude

Looking upwards and outwards

Where new beginnings

And challenges await

 

Winter Whites and Blues

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Frank J. Tassone hosted Haibun Monday for dVerse yesterday. He wants us to get seasonal in honour of winter.  Those of us in the northern hemisphere might be just about done with the white stuff and cold but hey, it does have it’s beautiful moments. Should you want to try your hand, just click here and add your link.  All jokes aside, I do love winter – not as cold as we’ve had, thank you very much!

There is something special about waking up to a fresh blanket of snow.  Bleary-eyed, you crawl out of bed, not really ready to face the day (or maybe you are). You open your blinds and catch your breath. While you were sleeping, nature was laying down a gift.  All is covered in pristine white and the skies are as blue as they can only be in winter.

Now energized, you check the temps and dress appropriately to go out and get a better view.  Away from the noisy streets, as you make your way, you feel the silence grow louder the further you go.  The crunch under your feet is now muffled by the layer of fluff, your breath comes out in plumes and your jacket crinkles as you walk.  While the sun is shining brightly, it is stingy with its heat.  But you don’t really mind as you’ve dressed accordingly and while slight, you do feel the lightest of ray of kisses on your exposed cheeks.

Ah! If only all of winter were so!  But alas. That is the part of the gift of having four seasons.  We must enjoy the best of them while we can.

Blanket of white snow

Blue skies and crisp air delight

I’m ready for spring

 

 

Just Roll With It

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“I try not to make plans. Because, even the best laid plans etc. etc.”

– Author: Brent Spiner

My plan for Sunday was rather easy.  Get up (always a good way to start the day), have a coffee, eat some breakfast, have a second coffee, then get my heinie outside for a good walk.  Upon my return will deserve a nice bowl of my veggie soup, take a shower, prepare supper, pick up my mother, enjoy our meal, drive her back, relax and go to bed.

As Sundays go, it started off nice and slow.  Slept in until 9 (never mind I was awake from 2 till 5).  Stoked the fire and made myself a cup of coffee.  Got onto the Interwebs to catch up on my readings.  Ate my bowl of Raisin Bran by 10, continued reading and next thing I knew it was past noon.  Well, dang.

 

If I was going to walk for any reasonable time, I’d have to eat sooner.  Continued reading and commenting and whatnot and then around 1:30-ish, had a small bowl of soup, then dressed up to go out.

Shovelled the back porch and along the back of the house up to the side gate (must have all exits free from snow, in case). Once that was done, grabbed my camera and was off.

After the cold we had on Saturday, Sunday felt positively balmy!  Off I went in the direction of  my willow, planning to keep walking until I reached the discovered secluded walkway.  I got to the first park and decided to take a pic of the play area as this week’s theme in my photo group is “a touch of blue”, and there is blue on the monkey bars.  I slid-shuffled across the skating rink, passing by a lady who was clearing the snow off the rink.  I took a few pictures then noticed a flash of something on my camera….

“No card in camera”.

What. The. Fuck?  What an amateur move! I completely forgot that I had taken a few pics of the sky from my living room window the evening before, uploaded them into my computer. Where I left the card. Sonova–

I grumble and take out my cell phone to snap a couple pics.  Would have been a grand day with the camera as the day was beautiful, for sure.

However, there was no way in hell I was lugging my camera bag without being able to take pictures!  Get a sore back for nothing? No.  So I turned around.  As I crossed the park, I thought, hey, all is not lost, I have lots of time. I shall go home, change and go back out for a run.  Once I turned on the next street, the wind in my face determined otherwise.  The day was bust. I just wasn’t feeling it, anymore anyway.

So I took my shower then slowly started preparing my supper. It was nice to not feel rushed.  Chopping and sautéeing and browning. It’s when I feel the most zen.  Just as I was putting my coat on to leave to pick up my mother, Iain’s CAA arrived to boost his car (dead battery).  I told him that, since he had to drive his car to get his battery full, it would be a wonderful idea if he could go and get his grandmother.  He agreed.

We had a lovely and simple Sunday dinner.  To be repeated!  I made my “Chicken à la Tuscan à la Dale” – one of those recipes that I actually wrote down.  (Years and years ago, Mick asked me to please stop winging it and write things down so that I could potentially repeat the good stuff.)  Of course, I never follow it, but the fact that I wrote it down means that I potentially remake it sorta-kinda the same way (ish).  It just so happens I was looking for this recipe to share with someone else – and ended up not doing so coz I never did get around to sending out Christmas cards in which I was supposed to include a recipe on a 3″ X 5″ index card; said index cards that I actually bought for the occasion and will be potentially used next year – so it was top of my mind when I asked Mom if she wanted dinner.

Ready for the oven
Dinner is served

Plans are great and all but hey, when they are broken, doesn’t mean all is lost!

 

 

 

 

Done and Done and… What’s Next?

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I am, in general, an excellent starter.  Finisher? Not so much.  Not that I don’t finish anything – each of my parents and my grandmother got a needlepoint I made for each of them.  My grandmother has one because she had the bright idea of taking up needlepoint but instead of buying herself a nice little 4″ X 6″ as a starter, bought a big-ass one (like 18″ X 24″ or is it 24″ X 36″). She figured her granddaughter (me) would teach her how to do it.  Easy-peasy. After doing one one-inch square (too tight, by the way), she gave it to me with a “I don’t have the patience for this!” So I did it and then gave it back to her for Mother’s day. My mother’s contribution was to pay for the framing.  She wrote on the back “To be returned to Dale upon my death”. Well, Mémère died twelve years ago and my aunt lives in the house now.  When she tried to give it back to me, I told her to keep it.  When she sells, we’ll determine what to do with it then.

As usual, I have detoured to China on my way to New York…

So. Back to the reason for this post. Today marks my 365th day, like, in a row (sorry, David, had to steal it!) of doing my 10,000 steps per day.  10K steps.  Every. Day.  The funny thing is, I didn’t decide when I started this on January 3, 2020, to do it for one year.  I actually decided to start it on a Sunday (simply to avoid starting it on the first of the year), and merged it with the 68-day challenge they do at work, which started on the Monday.  Two birds, one stone.  But then a funny thing happened.  The last day of the work challenge came and went and I was still on a mission.  I don’t know when hey, let me try to do this for a whole year came to be but suffice it to say, that it did. And I did it. I had my cheerleader and co-participant Marc, who actually had been doing 10K per day for months before I started and just joined in, determined to keep me company till the end. Thank gawd.  There were days where his “Go, Q, Go” was the difference between planting my butt on the sofa and getting out there.  I like to think there were days where I did the same for him.

I’ve gone from running in intervals of one minute run/one minute walk, for 10-16  sets to one 1:45 run, one minute walk, for 10-16 sets or plus.  I have also gone from doing increasing (by fifteen seconds) intervals starting at one minute run up to one two minutes and back with one minute walk in between each to 1:45 up to 2:45 and back with the one minute walk between each – that makes for a 47:15 total run/walk Pretty damn good as I was never a runner. 100 metre sprint? No problem. Run just to run? Not so much. So this gradual increase has been something I’m rather proud of.  I shall not be quitting any time soon and shall keep trying to increase my run times.

I’ve been chased by dogs and almost run over by absent-minded driver doing an “American stop”. I’ve run in the rain and on snow and in ridiculous heat and pretty frigid cold.  I’m still rather surprised at myself, that I did all that, tell you what.

I had a little minor surgery on my back to remove a chunk of fat called a lipoma on December 15th.  The surgeon asked me to not run for a few days.  Which turned into two weeks because the weather just wasn’t conducive to running – I don’t do slush/ice/snow which hides ice/ridiculous cold, etc.  So I walked outside and marched inside while watching episodes of shows.  Sometimes my steps went way over the goal and other times I just barely made it. I’ve had a few times where I prepare to go to bed, check my steps and gasp! Still have 1500 or so to go… March, march, march! Then sleep.

Saturday I was finally able to run, opting for the 1:45/1:00 X 14 sets for a total of 40 minutes 45 seconds (all my runs include a 15 sec prep and a two-minute cool-down.)  I also had to change routes as the only place I was pretty much guaranteed asphalt was on the main drags – not a pretty place to run.  Not a pretty day at all. We haven’t seen the sun in ages.

Drab boulevard
Deceptive long hill

There was a lot of internal dialogue going on. A LOT.  The first set I thought, this is gonna be hell.  By set number five, I was convincing myself that I would go to six and turn around. 12 sets was nothing to be ashamed of.  By the sixth, I saw I was a ways from the overpass so why not go to seven as planned? It’s not like I would have to run up the damn thing. The photo does not do it justice. It’s the type of slope that even by bike, you want to speed up before the climb because by the top, your thighs are burning.  The voice in my head changed to Marc’s.  “You’ve got this, Q.  Last run day. FINISH STRONG.” I lost count for which set I was back on my return.  The Universe’s way of encouraging me to just keep on.  No point in quitting now.  When I hit the curve, I knew I’d soon be seeing my street. Yay! One more hurdle and done and done!

Rounding the bend
Last hurdle

January 2, 2022, was my last day of my challenge.  I was awakened by the incessant sound of snowploughs going to and fro. First the streets, then the sidewalks, then my driveway, then the streets again…. I got the message and got out of bed!  A couple coffees, a late breakfast and I bundled up and headed out just as the snow was slowing down.

Almost as soon as I stepped out, I found myself in a snow globe.  What a perfect day to end my challenge!

What’s my next challenge?  Not sure yet. Will keep you posted!

 

Hot Chocolate (and Toast)

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One of Mick’s Coca Cola mugs, worn down, much loved

I was reading Pam’s wonderful Christmas tale, “The Last Christmas Gift”.  Do please go and read it here … it might help explain my sudden inspiration to “pen” this.  Pam’s story was so beautifully written that I found myself sitting in the circle she described, drinking my own cup of hot chocolate or coffee, or both, that I stopped reading and went to make myself a mocha coffee before returning to her tale.

Fry's Cocoa - Baking Cocoa (227g) – GoJava TorontoMemories were now evoked of the times my mother made for us, and that I later made for my kids, hot chocolate, using real cocoa from the yellow and red Fry’s can, sugar, and a small amount of cold milk to create a smooth, mud-like texture before slowly adding the hot milk while stirring it all together.  No lumps guaranteed if you make it this way.  Sometimes there were marshmallows, most times not.  Mom wasn’t into instant anything, except Minute Rice, but that was only for her rice salad, never anything else.

Why is it that things that take just a bit longer to make, meaning you had to wait for it, taste so much more?  To make this come-in-from-the-cold treat all the better, Mom served it with buttered toast.  And that’s another thing, what is it about afternoon or nighttime toast smells and tastes like it comes from a whole other dimension?  You can’t even compare it to the toast served with your eggs and yet it’s the same product.

Now I’m mad at myself for not making a toast to go with… then again, it’s not late enough in the afternoon to justify it.  I think this is my cue to go out and get my 10K steps.  There are only seven days left for me to be able to say I did it for one whole year.

For the Canadians and Brits and the areas in the States that celebrate, Happy Boxing Day!  For those with no holiday, Happy Sunday!  I hope you have been able to take time away from the hustle and bustle of Christmas preparations and over-eating and just be.