It's not all about ME!

NOT starting at the very beginning is refreshing because it allows me to talk about ANYTHING! Recently I have felt this nagging feeling that something is missing from my life.   Apart from the fact that I don't have much of one anymore....it was something else.  I used to be really close to God and I have let that relationship stray.  I used to wake up with the joy of wondering "what will God bring for me today?" It was exciting and new each morning and I waited to see who or what he would bring into my life and how could I be a good steward of God's gifts that day. Sitting in my house all alone doesn't bring much opportunity and my depression and pain overwhelmed my desire for God. But I feel Him nagging at me...calling out to me...and I in turn am reaching out to HIM. I'm delving into His word again, and finding solace in it.  I'm worshipping with music and feeling joy in that. I haven't felt joy in a long time.)

This is a very exciting time for me and I wanted to share that with you.

Lets NOT start at the very beginning right now.  Its too depressing and that's not where I want to be right now! Just had a huge fight with my sister (not the first one by any means....she knows how to push my buttons). Depressing! Spent a month with my eldest son Paul and wife Jacquie with 2 of my grandchildren. Spending my first night alone again and missing them already.  But I don't mind being alone, and I'm testing out my new laptop by blogging for the first time in a long time and it feels really good.

Right now I'm fascinated with the #VanLife and wondering if its an option for me for the next few years.  I have to sell my house (its too big for just me and my pups, Ollie and Zim) and I don't have lots of money but my Father passed away in November so I'm an orphan, but he left me some money and I have some decisions to make.  I'm 59, so not a typical Van Lifer, but I'm very intrigued by the concept.  I was previously obsessed with owning a Tiny House, but I cant see myself towing one, or finding a place to park it.  Whereas a van is more feasible but has additional challenges like sleeping in Walmart parking lots, and surviving winters.  If your van breaks down your home is inaccessible while its being fixed.  But its cheaper than renting an apartment in Burlington or any city in Ontario basically.  My family think its a crazy idea for me but I'm not convinced yet so I'm watching all the non Instagram (glossy fantasies with no "real life challenges) videos.  I'm also sick with fibromyalgia and depression so I have additional challenges myself...limitations physically and emotionally.

Anyway its time for dramatic changes...not sure which way I'm going to go.  Let me know if you have any ideas or input.  Happy to be back. Hey, have a great day.

Let's start at the beginning...

My birth mother was unwed, and as a result I was put up for adoption and was adopted at the age of 3 months by a couple who had already adopted a daughter 3 years earlier, having no children of their own. My adoptive mother was about 40 years old at this time, although she was very secretive about her actual age right to the end of her life. My adoptive father had wanted a son, but my mother wasn’t sure how she would manage a boy so they decided upon a girl instead. When my sister was born, the adoptive parents were allowed to visit the nursery and choose a baby, but 3 years later the rules had changed and you were able to choose the sex but the child was unseen until arrival, and the adoptive mother had six months, during which time she could change her mind.  This must have been a terrible torment for adoptive parents. I was a plain, chubby baby with straight blondish brown hair, and blue eyes. My new sister, on the other hand, had auburn wavy hair, beautiful long eyelashes and a sweet girlish look about her. We were very different children from the very beginning!

I was a Tom baby...that's a tomboy before you're even a child! My appearance was not feminine really and, as I grew, I didn't really care if I was a mess or not! Whereas my sister was always well dressed and neat and tidy. As a baby I could have been mistaken for a boy but my sister would never have that problem! You get the picture!

Hard things

this is harder than I thought it would be.  I find myself re reading these posts and knowing that there's something huge missing.  That something is me...my heart and soul are missing from those posts...it's as if a robot reached down in to my brain and typed out the facts of this ordeal but omitted the emotion ...the most important stuff about it is the depth of emotional destruction that continued, no continues, to haunt my every thought and decision in my life.  I'm 58 years old now and I continue to react to relationships in self destructive ways as if I've never understood the severity of the damage that was done to me.  I can intellectually analyse why and how these things continue to haunt me this way but not the ability to change it.  How do you start again...it's like asking me to learn to breathe in a different way than I've always breathed!  People do heal.  They're called survivors for a reason, but I'm still not a survivor. I'm still a victim.  I still dont have the skills to change what appears to be
A long list of self abuse.  Not physical, although the stress of it all has made it physical too.  Made me even less worthy than I already thought I was. I write as if this all happened to someone else.  Sterile, clinical observations.  I have to start again from the beginning somewhere else. I know I'm talking to nobody out there and it's sad that this feels like the safest place to vent!  I am sad.  I am alone in myself.  I don't know if I can do this anymore.

A new beginning...

Our now small family of four left England and flew to Canada for a new start....away from my grandfather but also leaving behind everything I had ever known and all my extended family, including my grandmother who I loved dearly.
As we touched down and dis boarded the plane I remember being struck by how big everything was...and the sky seemed to never end!  Our first home was a cottage on Lake Erie, which suited me fine! It was right on the water and I swam everyday that I could.  My parents made new friends and even they seemed big...larger than life! We were surrounded by nature and even a huge deer head hung on the wall over the fireplace and we used him as a drying rack for our unmentionables and bathing suits!
Not everything was rosy though.  My sister and I were teased terribly for our English accents, and that made it hard at school.  Even some of the teachers seemed to be unforgiving of our cultural differences, such as using the the term naught instead of zero, lorry instead of truck, and our English penmanship was vertical in nature which was also wrong! Canadians slanted their writing, so we were chastised for all these errors, and subsequently teased.
There was another thing that had followed me to Canada that had resulted from my abuse at the hands of my grandfather and that was sexualized behaviour, totally inappropriate for a girl of 8.
My parents not knowing what I had endured found this to be quite repugnant and I felt their disapproval but didn't quite understand it. I thought that I was "bad" and I suppose I was, but I was confused at the same time. Why was I different from other children my age? Why was I so out of place. I had no way of understanding that my experiences with my grandfather had changed me forever.  I didn't think the same way as other kids my age and the older I got the more apparent that was.
Once, at school, after being teased relentlessly and pushed and shoved to the ground over and over again, I attacked my perpetrator, threw her to the ground one recess and proceeded to tear off her clothing and throw it over the fence! It must have been awful for her but I was so enraged that I lost control and that was my revenge...totally inappropriate and I paid a hard price for that! I was attacked even more after that, being thrown onto gravel and dragged, being chased on my bicycle and thrown off into the ditch and beaten. Their revenge was unrelenting and by the end of that year we moved to a different subdivision and a new school. A relief but new bullies were ready to take their place and they did so with gusto!
It took some years to settle in but I did and had "boyfriends" in grades 4 -8, but something else happened by the time I was 12 that changed the game again.
My grandparents had decided to emigrate to Canada as well, and their arrival resulted in a new round of abuse, and a new perspective on my relationships with my family.

I pretend I'm sleeping...

At some point my mother, my sister and I, are staying with my grandparents in their apartment back in England. At night after getting ready for bed we're tucked away in bed and Angela's breathing gets slower and slower while mine speeds up.  I wait, knowing what's coming next. I finally fall asleep but waken to the sound and smell of breath on my face. Tooth powder and soap, strong smells cover my nervous body. He's here again, touching me again. My body stiffens and I squeeze my legs together as hard as I can. I keep my eyes tightly shut so he thinks I'm asleep. He tugs at the blankets, wool and scratchy wool at that, I try to hold the folds around me clenching my fists on them, but he gets under the covers anyway and begins to stroke my little body. He starts at my chest, fondling me while the nausea fills my throat. Then he slowly moves down but when he starts to fondle between my legs I feign restlessness and quickly roll over. He stops...my breathing is rapid now and he knows I'm awake..he tries again but I make groaning noises and he stops again. Part of me is afraid my sister will waken, but another is terrified that she will. I'm so confused because as much as I felt sick with the wrongness of it, there was a part of me that enjoyed it and that scared me most of all.
He looms over the bed for what seems like forever, but finally leaves and I softly cry myself to sleep.
I'm not sure how long we stayed with them but the pattern never faltered and I thought I was going to have to tell my mother, but she was busy with my grandmother being ill, looking after her, and my father was in Canada so I didn't tell anyone. I was afraid of what might happen.  Would there be a big fight or would no one believe me. Where would I have to go? Too many things for me to ponder.
So it continued until my grandmother was better and my father came to England from Canada and we  were all going to live in Canada together without my grandparents.  I was sad about leaving my grandmother and my Aunts and cousin Penelope and my dear Uncle Stan...but it was a relief to be separated from my grandfather.

Car rides and boiled sweets

I'm older now...I'm not sure how old, but I'm going to school with my sister now, at the convent, and there's another girl on the car that I'm not sure who she is but goes to the same school and rides with us.
For some reason my grandfather picks us up from school, and I'm not sure why but this happens more than once, it is a repetitive scripted event that makes my stomach churn. It starts with the arrangement in the car. My sister and her friend always sit together in the backseat leaving me in the front seat with my grandfather. As we're driving, my grandfather offers us all boiled sweets that he keeps in a tin in his glove compartment which is in front of me. Of course the girls want sweets and I am instructed to get them out and offer them to the girls. It is at this point that the plan begins to take shape.  In the moment of offering the sweets I have to physically twist around with the tin and hold it out while they pick. During this time my grandfather slides his hand up my school tunic and to my panties. I am terrified that my sister is going to see what's happening and just want to throw up while he massages my thigh enjoying the whole situation. It only takes a few minutes for them to pick their sweets but it feels like hours. Once they pick I quickly push myself back into my seat and away from his grasp. He tells me to take a sweet which I dutifully do and then he says, speaking to us all but staring at me..." Say Thank you", the girls chime out "thank you" but the words stick in my throat along with the vomit I'm now swallowing. He pursues it again and finally I manage the words and he smiles knowingly at me.
This event plays out enough times as to make is a repetitive and dreaded activity rather than a shocking one time experience. Each time he picks us up it is a dreaded event, evoking nausea and anxiety, wanting to escape or scream but somehow I'm trapped by his stare and the knowing this is secret, wrong, but I'm in it with him. I can still smell the tooth powder he uses and the sound of his breathing which changes whenever he is doing these things to me.  It's disgusting, and I am ashamed. To this day I haven't discussed all the things he did to me with my family and it's partly because I'm afraid of their reaction. Will they believe me? Will they think badly of me? In therapeutic sessions I've been able to share most of my experiences and received support from my therapists but it still feels like it's a secret in a way.
Secrets are bad.
Secrets keep you trapped.

Scaramucci is GONE!

Trump and  Saramucci break the record for most short lived communications director of all time! Just 11 fun filled days and the stinking fish head is gone! What a shock it must have been for that narcissistic showboat to find out he had sold his business and given up all ( including wife, although I think she gave him up) to find his career cut EXTREMELY short...11 days...11DAYS...and they were long days at that. He consumed the MSM for the entire time with his brash and totally inappropriate behaviour...much akin to his boss who he love, love, loved!! This bromance could have gone on a lot longer had it not been for the incoming chief of staff who I'm certain said him or me! Plus it has been mentioned that, much like Spicer, ScareY Moochi was having entirely too much air time than the president!
Well here's to the Generals, may they serve well and long in this administration and may they put trump into a veritable choke hold until the end of his presidency in 3 1/2 years or sooner!

Fibro Finale

This past month has been excruciating, with the weather being so wet, and trying to keep up the house between floods and trees falling, the stress has peaked my pain threshold to maximum.  Being the only adult in the house means when I'm struck down with pain, nothing gets done. My physical stamina has been drastically diminished from years of reduced activity, and when I have a good day I tend to over do it to catch up from all the bad days and then that inevitably results in a crash, which means NO energy, as if sedated, LOTS OF PAIN, all over my body, muscles and deep bone aches.
I'm having difficulty motivating my 20 year old to do anything to help! Cutting grass and cleaning up after himself is a constant battle which when confronted results in a huge fight so I walk on tender hooks trying to be diplomatic but there is no diplomacy left, only consequences, like taking the car away, which again means war is declared.
I don't know how to get help anymore. I just watch as things fall apart, things that I would never have allowed before becoming ill are now standard practice like the house being a mess. I am embarrassed when my son brings his friends in...I don't understand how he has such little pride as to let them see the squalor his room is in.
I suppose this is when you start to scrape the bottom of the barrel! When you really begin to think "is this what it's going to be like forever? Is it going to get worse? How can I possibly get out of this situation ?"
I have no answers anymore...no cute little sayings to sweep the truth under the rug. It seems pretty hopeless to me.

The Wrath of Don

Trump has turned the page on the 1st Amendment by suggesting in a video retweet that it would be his wish to take down a CNN journalist and smack him/her down. He then followed up on that idea by stating in a speech to veterans that the media is trying to "shut us down" but they won't because "I'm the President and they're not"! What exactly does that mean in combination with his call to his followers to beat down the media? It reeks of censorship! If you're a friend of Trump and groom his ego you get airtime and mention. If you push him to explain his decisions, activities, multiple investigations, you are subject to the wrath of Don!This behaviour is eerily familiar. Censoring the press (which is his ultimate goal) taunting "Fake News" to his followers like a cult leader to his Trumpsters, who readily taunt the term over and over again refusing to properly debate the facts ... If you get even close to pinning them down they just cry "Fake News" or change the subject!
The use of social media over a free press is nonsense. That's not getting the message out to his people its summarizing, in 140 characters or less, a statement or taunt without the benefit of scrutiny or even explanation of the meaning of these oft times strange messages.
These messages, a small percentage of them being announcements, are mostly filled with rhetoric and accusations which will forever be documented as he goes down in history as being the least articulate president ever to hold office! School children will be exposed to these tweets as official records!
Gone are the days of remarkable, inspirational orators,raising the worlds consciousness. Instead they will see name calling, bullying, and downright vile thoughts tossed into the political atmosphere without caution or concern.  As Melania Trump lays claim to her anti bullying campaign her husband remains the king of bullies, like a grade schooler, he lowers himself to name calling, and mimicking.
The biggest fear in this downright bizarre situation is that he will bully a bully who holds the key to some nuclear or chemical weapons and uses them on the innocents the president has upheld to represent. He has no self control, no insight into his own narcissistic behaviour!
The saddest thing is that the very people who helped to elect him, along with Russia, are the very same people who will suffer the most by his decisions. Tax cuts for the rich, incentives to businesses, (Trump has yet to move his clothing companies and his daughters handbags back to be manufactured in the USA) reduction in healthcare and Medicaid which he promised not to touch, leave the most vulnerable out to dry under his leadership.
It is no wonder that the leaders of foreign countries are confused and bemused by this characature of a man who has accidentally come to represent the leader of the free world.
#SAD

Insurance/contractor nightmares ( I need some balls )

Last year I had the opportunity to access a program to help low income home owners address issues in their homes which may cause them to have to move out. Don't get me wrong they don't come in and "renovate" your home, it's very specific and only the major issues under a certain budget get addressed and over 10 years you have a loan and lien on your house.  I live in a small village of 1000 where most of the houses are older ( mine was built in 1880) and every spring the rows upon rows of sump pump hoses line the streets as homeowners deal with the inevitable. My home is no different, so when I accessed this program I spoke to the contractor I had chosen about making sure the new furnace I was getting was elevated, maybe suspended from the rafters, to keep it safe from water issues. At first he said it couldn't be done as my basement is not full height and I asked for it to be raised at least as high as my previous furnace.  I was on a waiting list from the fall 2016 into mid January 2017.  They lent us a heater to help with the cold while we waited. Once the job was completed the furnace had been placed on maybe 2 inch slabs! I said that I was concerned but the job was done. Then comes April downpours and my basement floods like everyone's did and my beautiful new furnace sinks under the cold icy water and my house fills up with propane! I've never heated with propane and it terrified me...I waded around in the basement and hooked up a fan to try to blow it out all the while expecting to be blown up! I realize this event was not typical weather but what is typical weather these days? So my concerns born out I contact the insurance company and begin the task of quotes.  I contacted my original contractor who then told me the furnace could probably by hung from the rafters but it wouldn't be covered by the insurance company because it would represent a change from the original set up and would increase the cost by $700.00! Sooooo I could have had it raised in the first place but I think my contractor ( who seems to be a nice enough guy) was more afraid of losing the bid than my concerns over possible flooding!!! We're still in the process of finalizing this endeavour and even though I'm a woman I'm intending to pursue it to the bitter end even though I will most likely lose out.  It sucks being a woman in these scenarios because if you're not a bitch in the first place you're a sucker in the end.  I have often said that one day I will buy myself a penis just to carry with me in case I need more balls...maybe that time is now!

Wren update!

This morning after my dogs woke me for their morning constitutional I sat down with my coffee and gazed out the window to check on my wren family but something was different.
Since April the business of birds had been to nest, lay, hatch and feed, all under the watchful eye of the parents, chattering orders to each other at every step of the way. Mom and Dad frequently tag teaming, feeding larvae and insects into the dark hole of the bird box, disappearing inside, then within seconds flying off with baby bird poop in their mouths (yuk!) to procure more tasty morsels for their unseen, but loud little babies.
As I looked closely at the "black hole" of the wren house this morning there was a little face, followed by another little face above it! Over the course of the next hour more faces appeared and a great deal of pushing and shoving ensued. Eventually one little face pushed himself to the front and bumbled around trying to get his body out of the small hole without tumbling to the ground. First the head, then a foot waved around looking for something to cling too...push, push...push...then POP...his whole body appeared on the outside of the box he'd called home for 2 months. He looked surprised! Gazing around nervously, #1 seemingly wondered "okay what's next?". He looked up, he peered down, and seemed undecided as to what to do. His decision was made for him when wren #2 pushed himself out of the box knocking his brother off the perch! Amazingly #1 flew off the box as if he'd been doing it everyday! He landed on the vines on my deck much to his parents dismay as they chirped wildly at him ( I wondered what they were saying...as parents we all know the terrifying moment when we have to let go of our children to learn from their own mistakes). Meanwhile, back at the box, #2 was already on the perch and hopped on top of the bird box to get a better vantage point! Within seconds, during which #3 was almost out of the hole, wren #2 flew off in the opposite direction from #1!!!
As the parents became more frantic the mass exodus continued, rapidly producing 5 infant wrens in total over a period of just a few minutes! When it's time to go, it seems they go quickly! ( unlike human children!)
So my little bird drama is over for the moment, and the nest in my honeysuckle bush?...it's empty
now too! The wrens will stake out another nesting area for their second round before the season ends, so I will continue to see and hear these chattering little birds until the end of the season when they will fly off to warmer climates (smart little birds!) and I will replace the old wren house with a newer, prettier version. They deserve a renovation for all the joy they bring me!

The wonders of Wrens

I am unabashedly, a bird lover. Wild birds, pet birds, injured birds, well birds, hungry birds, fat birds, I love them all.  I love to watch their quirks, their comings and goings, their flirting, their nesting, their parenting skills and the feeling of sadness when they head off to warmer climates and the world becomes many voices quieter.
Of all my garden birds my favourite is the little spunky, saucy tail up, common house wren! That may seem strange when there are so many more "flashy" birds to choose from, but when I hear my little wrens chattering in the spring I can only smile a big smile and think "they're back! Yeah!"
My house wrens have been nesting in my garden for 22 years, establishing their territory and growing in number throughout that time. I live right next to a forest and actually since I've been ill my "garden" has become a bit shall we say "wild". Although my neat flower gardens, vegetable garden, and pond are no longer, my berry bushes, trees, and lots of fragrant shrubs have made this corner of my world very attractive to birds ( and I feed them!which helps!).
As I have mentioned in other posts, I became ill back in 2003, and most of my energy now is focused on the most basics of life, and dealing with constant pain which is very tiring.  Whereas I used to be out in the garden everyday possible, now I spend more time in the house. I used to erect a screened gazebo every year and feed and watch the birds from there, I now have a window by the couch where I sit and watch as the world goes by, so I had a brilliant idea! I mounted a wren house on a pole right outside my window! Best idea I've had in a long time as this has brought me much joy as I have a front row seat to the busy nature and highly protective qualities of these tiny chattering birds.
In cleaning out their nest this spring I came across a wide variety of nesting materials which included pine needles, feathers, some branches and amazingly a few large screws and nails which certainly must be decrorative because they're shiny and I can't see how comfortable they would be!! But maybe
they were trying to fix this old house as it is in great need of renovating ( a replacement was in the plan but they came home earlier than expected).
I love witnessing the focus spent on choosing their nesting materials. They are very stubborn birds and fly in with branches 4 times too big to be moved through their nest box hole! They try and try over and over again, dropping the branches and flying down to retrieve them. Eventually they satisfied and begin the task of egg laying which obviously is Mom's job but after that Mom and Dad are equally invested in the parenting and guarding their babies. One wren flies in relieving the other to go in search of food and on it goes like a well oiled machine.  They chatter in their wren language
And alert each other when anything seems threatening, like our dogs bounding around rambunctiously, or me trying to get a great photograph ( not ) of them. When it's really hot they perch on the roof of the house (which has a split in it ) and flap their wings rapidly in an effort to cool the house down ( always make sure there's water nearby that they can drink and share with the little ones.
It may seem silly, but watching them has become a big part of my day and I worry when it's hot, cold, or wet!
When they finally leave for the season I hope they are safe and miss they're presence in my garden.
But I know they will be back, or they're little ones will be back to nest somewhere else in the area next year.

A bird in the hand is worth 9 in the bushes?

As I mentioned before my poor garden has gone wild since my illness starting back in 2003. My lilac bushes are now at least 10 ft. high along with my honeysuckle bushes. I had decided that this was the year to trim them back, especially one of my honeysuckles, which has grown so high that it covers my window! I wanted to wait until they had flowered so the bees and I could enjoy their beautiful scent and flowers. There's nothing quite like it. But now I have a problem! Another wonderful delay! I peeked out my window and in the middle of all those branches sits a little nest overflowing with hungry chicks, mouths open leaning perilously close to the edge and risking falling out in an effort to be the first one to eat!
I've been trying to get a photograph of them but once Mom noticed me at the window she flew away with a juicy worm hanging from her beak and hasn't returned yet so I certainly don't want to interfere with dinner!
So it looks as if my yard will have to undergo some inspection into each bush to choose which ones are uninhabited and which have little tenants! As much as those shrubs need trimming I hope I find some more tenants too!
Wren update: my wren's eggs hatched a few weeks ago which means a flurry of activity is going on outside another window! Like a relay race the parents fly in with food and wait for the exit of the other who has fed the chicks and leaves with clean up duty while the other sits with an insect in his mouth. Efficiency to the max!
So while I continue in my life of isolation I have my dogs and nature's gifts to lift my spirits. Okay it's not the same as real human relationships but they have few expectations and don't care if I'm too ill to meet a prior plan. No ones disappointed and my pups just curl up with me until I'm well enough to take them on an new adventure!

Pre War Syria - http://www.the-dialogue.com A week in Pre War Syria

Pre War Syria

I have had some disturbing conversations on Twitter which lead me to believe that the ignorance of pre war Syria is so great that some people forget that Syria was not always a pile of rubble filled with starving, injured, dirty and bloodied people clamouring for just a piece of the world's attention between the never ending discussion of which Trump tweet is most telling of the imbecile behind it.
Believe it or not I've had tweet conversations where the other twit, I don't mean tweeter, is crying foul on the aftermath of sarin gas attacks on innocent Syrians claiming that they are all acting!? It is completely fake says one..."Fake news" cries another, all in some devious plan to garner access to America so they can blow them all up!
When the international news carried the story focused on the little Syrian girl who pleaded with the world,via cell phone, for help, one women attacked me with the notion " how would this child get a cell phone account"! "The same way your child did!" I replied.
The idea that Syria is some land so far behind the Western world that cell phones have never been available to them, or that that they have always lived amongst rubble and chaos, seems to be a generalized thought with no consideration that Syria was once a city with apartment buildings, stores, roads, communities similar to our own. Certainly living under a Dictatorship has its consequences, and Bashir Al Assad has spent most of the countries money on his own desires and those of his wife, leaving his people to live without many of the things we Westerners don't even think about, like clean streets. It costs money to clean streets, money Assad would rather spend elsewhere so dirty streets were the norm! We would all have dirty streets if our government didn't act on the needs of its people and PAY workers to clean them! The women on the other end of my "Twitter war" would not be lining up to volunteer her time to clean them I guarantee you!
If you are the least bit curious as to what Pre War Syria was like I forward you to a great essay, not a
sound bite, dealing with this issue which will help to dispel some of the misinformation flooding our
twitter feeds and news broadcasts. You can read it at http://www.the-dialogue.com A week in Pre War
Syria.

Moon Over Matter

Many people scoff at the idea that a full moon affects the behaviour of people, but those of us lucky enough to work in a hospital know that a full moon will mean a busy night for all concerned.

Working as a nurse I watched firsthand the change in number of incidents compared to waxing or waning moons and the full moon phenomenon. Especially in emergency medicine where the increase in admissions and odd behaviours of some patients increased 10 fold with the fullness of the moon!
One particular night after doing rounds on a surgical ward in the dark with our flashlights, we received a phone call from security saying a patient had reported a fire in her room. We immediately sped into action, fire extinguisher in hand, running down to the room where the fire reportedly was. We entered the room quickly checking the patient, who was asleep, and every corner of the room, but no fire. We returned to a quick round then back to the nurses station to continue our paperwork.  Within 10 minutes we received another phone call from security issuing the same information from the same room!  We asked them to check their switchboard while dashing again to the room as described. Again no fire...patient asleep...we moved the phone away from the bed, checked it, checked everything and all was okay. Not to repeat myself, but I must as we received a 3rd call and now we were really spooked.

There's nothing like wandering around a hospital ward in the dark with just flashlights checking bodies for movement or absence of ! Patients find it frustrating, nurses find it spooky because no one looks "well" under the glow of a flashlight! As we rounded the opposite side of the ward there was a sign! A poopie line exiting the exact opposite room from the room the calls were supposedly coming from. The bed rails were up ..bed empty...following a streaky trail we found our patient scooting around the corner on her bottom!  She told us there was a fire in her room and she was escaping! Somehow the phone system had switched the line over in a mirror image of the ward!? It took quite some time to convince our athletic patient that there was no fire and exhausted after we cleaned her up, she finally agreed to return to bed and stay there. We unhooked her phone and checked her every
15 min till she slept.  I don't know how the lines got switched but it was one of the spookiest night shifts I ever worked! Blame it on the moon!!!

The magic of the Moon

Happy Father's Day to my eldest sons

My eldest sons are celebrating Fathers Day today too. They have grown up to be GREAT DADS, showering my 5 grandchildren with love and affection. 

Though they are frequently tired juggling work and parenthood, struggling through looking after sick little ones only to get sick themselves ( don't we all remember those days) they soldier on focusing on the good things rather than the struggles. It's fun to watch them balance their lives and see their hearts swell with love and pride for there little ones ( Grace isn't so little anymore!) .

Here's to Fatherhood! The most important and challenging job they will ever have.

Happy Father's Day boys! ❤️

Fathers Day

Happy Fathers Day to all Dads! My Father is 92 this year, and although he can't recall much of the present time, he still has his long term memory and likes to regale stories in the past. I live some 5 hours away so I don't see him very much, but try to call him weekly. I'm not usually successful because he sleeps a lot now and it's a challenge to reach him. He's in a Nursing Home,  but my sister is always around to take him out and look after his every need. Thank God for her!
My Dad has always been the most intelligent man I know. When we would watch Jeopardy he knew all the answers before the contestants did...he could have made a fortune.

In school he graduated a year early and as a result had to wait to start medical school because he was too young! He practiced medicine for almost 60 years!

I was the boy he didn't get, but he made up for it by believing he could make me into a professional tennis star!!! From the age of 10 to 18 we practised regularly and most winters started every Sunday at 7 am in a freezing tennis club...the first ones there got to put on the heaters! Although as the years passed it was obvious I was no Yvonne Goolagong ( my fav) Dad pressed on! I was hopelessly afraid of competition although I played quite well in the end, I always froze when the pressure was on. Poor Dad, a dream lost!
He also turned my oldest boys into pretty good golfers and spent many hours on the golf course with them from an early age. Although they were technically too young to be on the course he would put them in the golf cart as caddies then once on the course have them play!
Dad did a lot of Fathering for me, my sister, and my sons. I will always be greatful to him for the love and support he has shown us all. Happy Father's Day Dad!

Garden Goes Wild!

The other day I was cleaning out my barrel deck pond and came a cross a nest at the bottom of the barrel. I wasn't surprised since last year we found a mouse nest in there. I gently disturbed the material and all of a sudden instead of a mouse the whole ball of fuzz started to undulate and then little bumble bees began to crawl out and fly around, buzzing angrily! They were so cute and small but perfect little bees. I knew if they stung me neither of us would be happy. I'd be stung and they'd be dead, so I left it alone for several hours so they could move on.

My yard used to be a garden that I had built up from nothing, including multiple flowerbeds, a huge vegetable garden and lilac bushes and honeysuckle around the perimeter to cover the metal fence I had installed. I had a beautiful pond, with a fire pit off to the side.  I spent hours and hours each day from spring to fall adding more and more perennials, looking after my fish and wondering at the giant bullfrogs, who incedentally ate some of my fish! The goldfish were breeding which was wonderful to see these tiny brown fish grow into golden shiny gems hiding underneath the huge waterlilies which bloomed in yellow then turned pink! I had little white lights in the bushes and torches to light the pathways to the pond and fire pit.

Once a saweet owl (tiny) landed in front of me with a mouse in its talons and I sat quietly in the dark and watched as he had his dinner within feet of me. Amazing!

Since I've been ill, the "garden" is no longer and is now a wild yard, which is sad, but also I've noticed that the wilder it becomes the more we are visited by nature. Hence the bee nests, of which I'm sure there are many more than the one I found. If you read my apple tree post you'll hear why I think that.
Bees are facinating little insects, and so cute and round. Apparently they burrow underground using old rodent holes to overwinter although some die off. So my greatest thing I miss is my pond but the increase in birds and  butterflies chipmunks helps to ease the pain!

My Life: Secrets and lies

I was 4 When I started school, and I think my sister was already going to the convent by then as she's a little older than me. I mention this only to get a perspective on time because it's difficult to know how old I was exactly when the "trouble" began in earnest. I know I was small because his hands were so big. That sounds like such an obvious thing to say about being a child compared to being a man but it's a funny thing about memory, what leaves its mark in your brain and what fades as quickly as it happened! Our memories of events and time are all jumbled up and even when 2 people have experienced something together, like growing up together, we all have different perceptions of what that time was like. We come to it through our own individual lens.
In the beginning my relationship between my grandfather and myself seemed normal and affectionate
as far as I know. My sister didn't like to be cuddled or tickled so I got all that attention and at first it all seemed good but at some point in time, I'm not exactly sure how old I was, things became a bit more nefarious.  The tickling progressed in intensity and the areas he tickled changed from simple waist and stomach, to my chest area, squeezing my bottom and running his hands up and down my thighs to the crotch of my panties. I remember being very confused because I loved my grandfather very much, but every time these events occurred, and the more often they occurred, I began feeling sick to my stomach, but I wasn't sure why. One of my clearest memories is of being out on my
grandparents terrace that overlooked a small lawn and then a garden with gooseberry bushes in it. I had been running around and my mother and grandmother were both in the house. As I ran past my grandfather he reached out and caught me, pulling me into his side as he sat in a deckchair. At first he was tickling me with his big hands and I was giggling. He had me by the waist and put his right hand on my thigh, running it up and down my leg several times but then he went higher and quickly he pushed his finger into me. I screamed loudly, and cried out and he quickly released me. I was inconsolable and when my mother and grandmother ran out to see what had happened my grandfather began to explain that I had been bitten by a ladybug? I was holding myself and I wept while he stared
at me and tried to pull me in to appear to be comforting me. I knew by the look on his face that I was in trouble. My mother tried to console me but she felt I was making a lot of fuss over a little bite and she began to be angry with me too. Looking back this was a pivotal point for me. I never said a word. I just cried and my grandmother took me inside to wipe my face and look for the bite mark which of course there was none which furthered the frustration over my apparent hysteria over nothing! A natural response really. Looking back something changed in me that day.
I felt suddenly alone for the first time.
I was trapped in a web of secrets and lies that I didn't really understand.