Off & Running

One of my favourite songs.

Keineg’s got a weird nasally voice but it’s perfect for the songs on this record, don’t you think?

There’s an entry here pretty much every day. I ain’t a-gonna let you down now! This one was prepared weeks ago while Scott was still gallavanting over the ocean and I was sitting naked at my laptop (woo hoo! more like a blanket was wrapped around me any time I sat more than five minutes) on that stretch of hot Saskatchewan days .

Occasionally it’s an effort to come up with a few words and a photo on a daily basis. Other times there are a dozen things that come to mind after I’ve already posted. The posts that follow this one for the next few days will be some of those.

If you normally check the daily tarot draw, try an exercise: for the next while, look at and think about the card that’s there now. Sometimes it’s enlightening to focus more intently on a particular message. You can get a deeper insight each day.

There’ll be another draw when Emil and I return from Alberta, where we’re headed today. Meanwhile this blog forges on. There’ll be a new entry every morning, just like always. How handy is that “scheduling” function!

The song that turned me on to Katell Keineg in the first place:

Keineg wrote the song after reading Leonor Fini‘s obituary in a newspaper.

If you’ve been visiting my blogs for a while, this is a repeat for you. What can I say? Writers of diaries and journals repeat themselves. Sometimes without realizing, sometimes with full knowledge. New readers do come along once in a while so this is for them.

I’m not taking my laptop and don’t have data on my cellphone, so may not see and approve any comments you make while I’m away. Don’t feel ignored. No doubt before I’m home for an hour on Sunday, I’ll be going online to check my email and make a new entry in this blogarooney.

It’s already 7:25 and we’ve been up since six. I’ve done last night’s supper dishes and am having a cup of coffee before lugging our suitcases out to the car, which I loaded up last night with perennials for Shelly’s new flowerbed up north. Emil’s eaten a couple slices of toast and I should too but just can’t force anything down yet. By suppertime tonight I’ll be hanging with some of my high school Luther College dormies, and then tomorrow it’s off to the North Pole!


Lightning Strike in 1948

Reprinted from the Wadena News:

Kelvington Radio, July 1948
HAZEL DELL: During the 6:30
a.m. milking at the Wahlowich family
farm disaster struck. Lightning
struck a tree just outside the corral
in which five elder members were
doing the chores. All returned to the
house when another lightning struck
a second time killing all 8 cows and
the 12 year old daughter who was just
finishing up milking. Had the blinding
flash and terrific thunder happened
moments earlier the whole family
may have been struck.


And look! Here’s an interesting post from Katherine Barber (editor of the Canadian Oxford Dictionary) about the word “mauve,” which apparently many Americans pronounce MAWV:


None of us are looking forward to another day of the searing heat we had yesterday. Emil was waiting to be picked up but I ran around getting errands done first so he wouldn’t combust while I ducked into offices, library, gas station, etc. Even the car’s air conditioning doesn’t make enough of a dint in the high temperature. I saw an elderly person entering the cool store so slowly that now I wonder if I should’ve made sure he was okay. The four or five trips it took to haul groceries from car to house were a killer, even though I drove right up to the doorstep to shorten the distance. Grocery haulage is my least favourite of weekly responsibilities, even without excessive heat. Picking-off-store-shelves and putting-away-in-fridge-and-cupboards are the enjoyable parts.

Venturing out is required this morning, nevertheless. During the summer, the egg lady goes to the farmers market instead of delivering my two 18-packs to the pickup spot every second week. If not for that, I wouldn’t be running into town again.

Emil has finished his breakfast and is brushing his teeth in readiness to go, which means I must hustle my lazy-morning ass and get out of this housecoat, otherwise he’ll be waiting for me. Not that he ever seems to mind much. And it’s only fair. In the 30 years spent with Emil, I’ve done a lot of waiting. I’ve run circles around him while he walks to the car: active waiting? I wait for him to get out of the bathroom. I wait for him to finish eating, and then for him to clear his place at the table and wipe it, which he does more reliably than certain other people I could point to. But everything takes him so much longer than it takes anyone else that we’re often forced to take a few deep breaths and practise our patience. It’s only really difficult if you’re desperate to use the toilet!

For Ms Bird

dark placeI just saw this on the “interwebs” and thought of you.

Sometimes it’s difficult to remain positive and hopeful.

I know it. I cannot advise. I can only tell you what I do in the dark moments. It’s something I was recently reminded of while watching Eat Pray Love.

“Select your thoughts.”

Literally. This is not an abstract instruction. It’s very clear. I’m thinking shitty things about myself, my situation, my future, my fears. I make a conscious choice to think different thoughts, even if they don’t seem true right now. I think those different thoughts, and there is a shift.

It’s not magic, but it’s a healing seed that I have come to rely upon.

Really Kathy? Tell Us What You Really Think

3dcrosswalkHave you seen these 3-D crosswalks some genius has created? Honestly! Wouldn’t that make you slow down! I love it. People are so smart.

They should put a few of these in school zones. That’s if they haven’t already.

Even knowing they’re painted on …

another crosswalk

AND … sayonara to statues of old white men who got where they wanted to go by putting down whole swaths of people like the indigenous of Canada, systematically making sure they were either starved off their traditional lands, robbed of their culture and childhood and family life by forcing them away from their parents and into abusive residential schools, or otherwise treating them like chattel to be disrespected, dislocated and discarded. John A MacDonald can suck my big black dick.



flower bed early aug

Supposed to be over 30F all week so the flowers got a soaking this morning.

Yesterday the first brown oak leaf fell at my feet. “Nooooooooooo… !” said I.

There’s smoke in the air; from Alberta? BC?

Just gotta finish up the last two things on my list (vacuum the porch, make supper) and I’m done for the day. It should be a lovely warm evening, perfect for sittin’ on the step or in the swing under the oaks.

Is anyone an expert in ferns? Kim calls them “Manitoba ferns.” They’re gorgeous all July and then the fronds dry up in August. It’s not pretty. I’ve tried making sure to fertilize, and not fertilizing. I’ve checked for slugs (didn’t see any). I’ve attempted to keep them well watered since they are competing with the oaks for moisture. Could the two hours of late afternoon sunlight be too much for them? And if so, why not in July then?

Unless there’s a solution, next spring I’m going to reef them all out. For now I’m cutting them down to remove the ugliness that is brown curled leaves.

TUES • Kim Comes Calling

Kim Aug 2018What is better, I ask you, than a phone call in the morning telling you that a dear friend is coming to see you in the afternoon? Why, nothing!

Kim and I had a great visit for several hours before she headed homeward, several hours southeast of here. Can’t remember when’s the last time I saw her; years ago. We met when we were both wee little girls; our parents were friends; we were in the same grade in school, and were mischief-makers as teens.


Judith Pettersen, up in Flin Flon, has written a good piece about the books she loved as a child. I could relate, being crazy about books, myself, forever:

“Immersing oneself in a novel makes life better. Empathy, curiosity, hope and persistence are traits we can absorb from characters we love.” -Judith Pettersen.

MON • Porch Swallows

barn swallow babiesWhile Scott was away, I let a pair of young barn swallows build a nest under the eave of our porch. This was probably an impractical thing to do but I did it anyway. Next year I won’t; they do make a mess.

Four little sweeties were raised. They’d sit like this looking out of the nest, waiting for the parents to bring food. Then suddenly they could fly like experts! I was surprised to see how quickly that happened, with no apparent learning curve.

We particularly enjoyed the show last night when one of them landed on the ledge of the living room window and hung there, flapping its wings frantically from time to time before finally flying rather slowly off toward the trees surrounding the front lawn.

This morning when I went out onto the step, the babies were perched in the lilacs a few feet away. A parent would swoop up, hover for a mere second to stuff food into an open mouth, and be gone again.

Will they bother to return to the now-empty nest?