Home » Well-being

Category Archives: Well-being

Things that make me just a tad more healthy

I Am Disconcerted

Posted on by | 36 Comments

Last May, on the 8th to be precise, Gigi wrote a post on how today’s food is poisoning us.  She had bought a sweet and a regular potato and after weeks and weeks, they did not spoil.  They did not sprout, no eyes, no nothing.  I figured she had found a great way to preserve them, but no.  Then, ten days later, she shared a photo of the said regular potato stating it was still exactly the same, one month later.

It got me to pondering about the food I eat.  I realise it’s a choice we make when shopping to take the time and read the labels.  Though, to be honest, how many low or even mid-level incomes can afford to go all-organic?  I would love to be able to for all produce but I just can’t.

I decided to look things up to see the what’s what on the laws here.  It seems ours here in Canada are similar to the ones in the States.  Producers are not obliged to label products as GMO though they can voluntarily do so, and, as specified below, they are not allowed to lie, be deceptive or misleading. From the Government of Canada website:

“Labelling GM foods

There are no specific laws in Canada about labelling GM foods differently. They are labelled like any other food because our safety assessments have found them to be as safe and nutritious as non-GM foods.

It is not mandatory to identify the method of production, including genetic modification, used to develop a food product.

All food products, whether organic or non-organic, must comply with the labelling rules of the Food and Drugs Act and the Safe Food for Canadians Act. These Acts require that labels be:

  • truthful
  • not deceptive
  • not misleading
  • not an untrue impression of the food’s:
    • merit
    • safety
    • quality

In addition, special labelling is required for all foods, including GM foods, where there are health and safety concerns such as:

  • the potential to cause allergic reactions
  • changes to the composition of the food
  • changes to the nutritional quality of the food

Such labelling is required to alert consumers or susceptible groups in the population.

Health Canada determines what type of information is needed on the label to help consumers make appropriate food choices.”

Where am I going with all this?

I made myself a green smoothie after my run on Friday morning.  To my spinach, frozen mangoes, oat milk and protein powder, I added about one-quarter of an apple.  I wrapped up the rest of the apple in plastic wrap, thinking I would have it sometime during the day at work but ended up not eating it.  I brought it home, put it on the counter to eventually put it in the fridge, I’m not sure when.

On Sunday, I was feeling a little peckish and I thought I’d have my apple with some peanut butter.  I was certain the cut sides would look like all brown and oxidized (enzymic browning) and need to be cut off. Ummmm…. not quite.  For this photo, I did slice off a paper thin piece to see the difference…

It’s barely discernable!  How can that be and should it be so?  And how safe is it really in the long run?  We buy produce for the week and want it to last as long as possible because it is unrealistic for most working families to shop every other day.  Farmers buy the GMO seeds because they can save on pesticides and get more of a guarantee their crops will make it to the stores. I can’t even fault them for that as they need to make a living.  Organic farming costs more and I don’t know what percentage they lose to whatever pests are out there.

I know I like to encourage our local farms (yet I am pretty sure the ones around my area are not organic).  That little stand outside the grocery store selling this season’s first strawberries (no indication of being organic) that come right from the farm is great and all but $9 for what looks like is maybe a pint?  They better bloody well be.

***

I just spent a ridiculous amount of time searching the internets to see if there are organic farms in my area. The only way to get organic produce right from the farm, is to sign up for a weekly basket plan for X number of weeks.  You choose from a list of what’s available and then you pick it up at one of the drop off centres.

Let’s see how my own garden grows this year…

Nonchalance

Posted on by | 97 Comments

Way back on Monday, Lisa hosted Prosery on dVerse.  We are to use the following chosen line from a poem in a piece of prose, not more than 144 words.  The rule is that we cannot insert any words within the quote but we are allowed to change the punctuation.  It’s one of my favourite of the dVerse challenges.

On this day without a date,
On a back street, dusky
— Charles Simic, from My Friend Someone

Over time, we become used to certain things.  Big. Little.  Some don’t even warrant a glance, never mind a thought.  We take them for granted.  Is it human nature to do so?  What, for many, in the beginning, thrilled us to have someone else do, we now expect. When do we become so nonchalant about our circumstances that we no longer pay attention and appreciate the little everyday things that are done for us?  It just is.  And then one day it isn’t.

Today, on this day without a date, on a back street, dusky, and away from the madding crowd, I ponder as I stroll.  My to-do list is ever lengthening and now, too late, I realise I didn’t express my appreciation enough.

With each task I accomplish, once done by another, I feel pride mixed with sorrow, and not a little remorse.

Before
After

*One of the many things I have had to learn to do… 

Springtime Thoughts

Posted on by | 111 Comments

I’ve decided on a walk towards a favourite park, La Freyère, it is called.  I know I’ve shared it before.  It always offers something more.  To give myself more distance to walk and take in the beautifully crisp day, I park about one kilometre away.  This gives me my first glimpse of the St. Lawrence and the huge houses mansions (some owned by celebrities) along the way on the river side and large fields across from them.

I decide to enter through the parking lot of the now torn-down La Saulaie restaurant.  It was THE place to dine, dressed in one’s finery, to nosh on the fanciest of meals with the best of wines.   It is now part of the park annexed to La Freyère.

I cross the double bridge (sorry, I cannot help but photograph it from all angles!), cut through the park and cross the boulevard, towards the Stephen-Langevin Arboretum.  Maybe I will be lucky and capture some birds.  However, not thirty feet in, I am surprised by the presence of a few deer.  I know many cross the river from the islands right across from the park, but I had never been so lucky before.

I’m no bird. but I’m cute, no?
Mister
Missus

Content with what I have seen, I decide to walk along, where there are less people and I can feel one with my surroundings.

It is officially spring, according to the calendar, but here in the woods, you would not know it.  Snow covers the paths, a (mostly) firm walkway created by the regular visitors of this park, but if you step off said path, can easily sink past your ankles.  It’s deeper in the non-trampled parts.

The sun, like fool’s gold, shines brightly and blinds me, but offers no substance.  Not much, anyway.  Standing perfectly still, protected by the woods, face upturned, there is a soupçon of heat.  I am amazed how powerful that limited heat is and how much snow it can melt despite the freezing temperatures.

I walk on, enjoying the silence that is broken by the honking of returning geese.  They pass overhead in twos or larger groups, raising a ruckus, announcing their presence.  “We’re back! We’re back!”  So many people hate them because of the mess they leave on lawns, in parks, etc. but I just cannot.  They are beautiful, albeit often nasty, creatures.  I look forward to seeing them with their babies, all fuzzy and adorable.  But that is not yet.

For now, I am in the moment, eyes looking up, in hopes of finding an owl or falcon, though it seems not my destiny to find them without someone else pointing them out!  So matter.  I trudge on, admiring the play of light on the maple seeds and the criss-crossing of branches of trees I cannot name, notice the colours of the various grasses, mixed in with the red dogwood (I think?).

Past an open field, I approach more woods and what looks like a secret passage.  It’s magical – to be perceived as your imagination sees fit, of course.  Depending on the light, it could appear more sinister…

Not too scary
A little spooky
Looking back. Was that it?

Exiting my hidden path, I walk along the sparkly creek, that brings me to the edge of the woods.

And this beautiful view

I chose to return along the outside path which winds its way through the trees, so that will have looped the whole arboretum. And let me tell you, it is a chilly one.  The field is to my right and I can feel the wind stinging my face as I walk back.  I try to pick up the pace but as you can see, the path is rather narrow.  Must be careful!

I crossed back over the boulevard and into the La Freyère park so I can take a short walk to the St. Lawrence.  It is beautiful in every season and with some snow and sun?  I’m sure to get a few more pics. (Hopefully you’re not bored yet!)

One last one of the bridges, but from the other side…

I’ve now kept you long enough and thank you for sticking till the end.  Hopefully, the next time I share this park, there will be no snow and things will be a-blooming!

 

 

 

 

 

Nimble to Zen

Posted on by | 114 Comments

 

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

 

 

 

No Expectations – dVerse

Posted on by | 90 Comments

On Monday, the lovely Merril hosted dVerse Prosery Monday.  I promised her I would participate but it took me two days to get the words I wanted.  These are still not the ones that popped into my head as I was walking but that’s how it goes, sometimes.  We were challenged to use the following poetry line, but NOT in any poetry form whatsoever.  We have 144 words to work with (not including the title):

“This year’s a different thing, –
I’ll not think of you.”

from Charlotte Mew, “I so liked Spring”

 

It’s the same thing, year after year.  I tell myself not to expect anything, that way there will be no disappointments.  It’s like I can’t help myself; my mind goes off on its own, raking in one thought after another, building up a scenario until I find myself thinking, yes! that’s exactly it.  That’s what I want.  Then I wait for it to happen ~ for some mysterious entity to come along and do the necessary to bring that random scenario to fruition.  How foolish is that?  I know better.  I’m past the fairy tale age.  There is no myth to getting what you desire.  It requires effort.  On MY part.

I promise myself this year’s a different thing.  I’ll not think of you as that mysterious entity come to swoop in and make it happen.  Having you join me will be a bonus.

 

 

 

 

Midnight (Close Enough) Walk

Posted on by | 152 Comments

*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?

 

Choosing the Light – Friday Fictioneers

Posted on by | 133 Comments

Good Friday morning, my peeps.  I sure hope your neck of the woods isn’t too wet or cold or snowy.  It’s a gross morning here.  First there was snow and now it is raining and windy.  It’s gonna be a crappy drive into work.  Why do I not work from home, again?  Oh yeah. Cuz I have the knack to choose the wrong job.  Will fix that right quick in the new year, tell you what!  So… For two days now I’ve been struggling to come up with something for this photo for Friday Fictioneers.  Can’t not play, eh?  It is my photo and it would just be rude to diss the boss.  This time of year is a challenging one for me (and for many others, I do not doubt) and it’s nigh on impossible to not focus on all the happenings that have happened in December for the past thirteen years – with a new one added less than a week ago, no less.  Not very original, either, as this is pretty much autobiographical.  C’est la vie!  Should you wish to play along or read what others have come up with, just click on the frog below and add your link.  If I don’t manage to come back to blog, I shall wish you all a very Merry Christmas, a Happy Hanukkah or whatever it is you celebrate!

Firefly Jar Solar Frog with Encased Fireflies Statue

How does she do it, you think?

Do what?

Always find the light, the silver lining, the positive.  It’s annoying, actually.

You’re just jealous because you’re an old crabby-ass.

Am not!

Okay, you’re not. Always.

Hmph!  Still.  With all the shit she has been through, you’d think she would be sad.

Maybe that’s why she focuses on the light.  Because she knows the dark. Sounds cliché, but truth, don’t you think?

True.  She probably does have sad moments but keeps them to herself.

Exactly.

What say we drop by and say hello? The light’s on.

I think she’d love it.

 

Weekend Writing Prompt #271 – Sibilance

Posted on by | 121 Comments

When this prompt from Sammi came out in August, I knew not what to write, so I skipped it.  And then I started a new job in September.  I am slowly, desperately, quite possibly, going mad.  I don’t know if I’ll be able to find a way to survive.  Might seem drastic to you but to me?  I just cannot.  That said, I searched on Sammi’s site to find this prompt because I so knew what to write this time!!

wk 271 sibilance

I sit

kitty-corner from a

monologuing soliloquy

to the right

and

not-so-subtle sibilance

to the left

All day

I cannot tune them out

I fear I’ll go mad

Dylan’s face so perfectly represents my sentiments (thanks for letting me use it, J&A!)

 

No, seriously.  Is it not rude to think you are alone in your cubicle? Can you not shut the eff up?

When You’re Feeling Beyond “Meh”…

Posted on by | 122 Comments

Even though the temps were ridiculously warm on this November 5th, 2022 – I mean, c’mon!  When was the last time it was 25℃ on this date?  (I always use the “feels like” rather than the posted – it was officially 23℃ but, whatever.)  My goodness.  I googled it and it happened – never!  Yesterday’s temps broke the previous record.  It was still 23℃ (yeah, yeah, yeah 21℃) at 5:30 pm, for goodness sakes!  And yet, I still needed to almost physically kick my butt out of the house.  Mind you, I DID go run for the first time in five weeks in the morning so it’s not like i had completely wasted the day!

I knew I wasn’t going to be productive in the house so, further to a loving nudge, I picked up my camera bag, filled my water bottle and out the door I went.  I hadn’t been to Michel Chartrand Park this year and, even though I knew it would be very “peoplely”, I went anyway.  Maybe there was still something to see and I could get out of these annoying doldrums.

The light was beautiful.  As for the colours, they were a mixture of pale yellows, beiges, browns with pops of bright here and there.  The muted beauty of November.

“The thinnest yellow light of November is more warming and exhilarating than any wine they tell of. The mite which November contributes becomes equal in value to the bounty of July.”
~Henry David Thoreau

My mood was steadily lifting as I made my way to a special section of the park (where I brought my mom and a friend at two different occasions) knowing that I would find me some chickadees.  What I found was a noisy young family that followed me from one section to the other, annoying me to no end.  I finally sat down on the bench and waited for them to leave.  It wasn’t too long, thankfully.

The chickadees, who had been invisible up to this point, sang their chickadee-dee-dee-dee-dee-dee announcing their arrival.  It was the first time I had one land on my hand and just hang out, looking straight at me, then cocking its head from one side to the other, inquisitively.  Was very cool.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Another family came by with three little kids.  They watched in awe as the birds came and left from my hand.  I asked them if they wanted to try, getting a nod from Mom, first.  I put a little pile of nuts in each tiny hand.  I told them they had to be really still, otherwise the birds would not come.  The youngest one was a little, shall we say, in the way, and scared off any chickadee brave enough to think about coming close.

I dunno… those little critters don’t look too trustworthy

The parents pulled him a little away and the older two patiently waited.  I asked the mom if I could take pictures and she acquiesced.  Just look at that face!

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Her brother was just as thrilled but he was behind his sister and turned his face and I couldn’t really capture it 🙂  The parents thanked me for sharing nuts and the experience and I left feeling a helluva lot lighter.

Which way to go next?  All the cool inside trails were closed because of the danger of falling dead trees so I was obligated to go along the regular road-like paths with all the other peoples.  This main path goes around the outside, making a full square.  Still, I held hope that some of the inner trails would be open and maybe I could spot a deer.  Nope.

What about me? What am I? Chicken liver?

I walked along, looking for colour, for something, clicking here and there: people walking, berries that popped, leaves still hanging on. and minding my own business, if you will.  However, I started hearing this insistent chirp.  I looked up and this nuthatch was basically giving me hell.  Or begging.  Maybe both!

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

I continued towards my car, still thrilled that I was walking, dressed in shorts, on November 5th, and it was nearing five o’clock!  Crazy.  Snapped a few more photos and will leave you with these last ones.  I love how the little bit of colour really popped.

Thanks for hanging out with me.  Hope I didn’t keep you too long!

 

 

 

Morning Pages

Posted on by | 143 Comments

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…