Bringing The Awesome From The Past

Hi. How are you? I’m not sure where to begin. I shall inundate you with shit that has no bearing on your life whatsoever, just because it pleases me. How’s that for a beginning? Yeah. I now speak like I was just crowned queen and sit on a thrown made of gold and velvet…or velveeta… which would obviously be more awesome. Who doesn’t love a throne made of cheese?!
The temperature in my office remains a chilly -25 degrees whilst outside the warm summer air is billowing the trees…I so want to be outside. I wear a coat INSIDE and take it off when I get out into the sunshine, instead of the other way around…I think that’s odd…especially since we seldom have sunshine and warmth simultaneously. I’m reveling in the irony.
Recently, my family had a reunion in my hometown and now the old black and white photos of yester year are popping up all over FB. I love it, not only because I get to see my mom and her sibs in their natural habitat when they were young and carefree, but because it also gives everybody a connection. Most of the pictures I have never seen, especially ones involving my Aunt Edie. She was an entity only in my mind. My mother would often say when I was younger, how much I reminded her of my Aunt who had died long ago, but I never knew why. I don’t know the circumstances of her death and I don’t know why I reminded my mother of my Aunt. I may never know, but it’s nice to see an actual face to the name. Maybe it was the way I twisted my hair when I was bored, or the expression on my face when somebody teased me about my freckles or how I continually get lost in unfamiliar places…and even familiar ones. It’s nice to know that your family remembers everyone even if they are no longer in their presence…and can retell old stories as if they are reliving a period in time that somehow got a little lost and by telling the stories, they can find them again, if only for a moment or two. It would be nice to make a reunion in the near future so I can hear these stories in person.
In the meantime, keep up with the pics and I’ll see if I can guess who’s who…and whomever Hercules was, I bet he was the one who thought outside the box and did his own thing…you can tell by the mushroom haircut and the goofy glasses. A man before his time. The name alone is awesome…it signifies greatness…Thought I’d throw that in there in case my cousin has another pic or two of that guy and can give me some clue as to how he managed to photo-bomb our family pics. See? Man before his time….

My Grandfather and Great Grandmother with William Hercules...who is awesome and on the right.

My Grandfather and Great Grandmother with William Hercules…who is awesome and on the right.

 

 

Just Don’t Ask Me To Carry the Cake

I live in a place where sunshine is a rare event, so when we do get it, we should declare it a holiday and allow everybody to run around in it, lounge in it, drink in it, barbeque in it, garden in it, walk in it, swim in it and basically enjoy the fuck out of it. Especially the drinking part…especially that. So the sun actually appeared in the sky today and I had to stay at work. Apparently the whole, ‘It’s a  holiday when the sun shines’ isn’t a thing yet. MAKE IT SO, NUMBER ONE!

The impending birthday bash of the century is around the corner in case you were unaware, and my sis-in-law has taken the unfortunate role of delegating a few basic duties to me, which causes grave concern on my part. I have the capacity to fuck shit up without even being on crack…or hammered. So, here is the list of stuff she may or may not want me to do for MOTHER-IN-LAW’S 80TH BIRTHDAY BASH! She may want to revisit a few of these:

1. Getting napkins with the number 80 on them…so, apparently this is a hot commodity these days and I was forced to resist the urge to get the ‘Rockin’ 80’s’ napkins at the Party Place…soooo had them in my hand, but daughter assured me Nanny wouldn’t appreciate ma sense of humor…ugh

2. Cooking. A dangerous task to be assigned… I am, or will be, or may have to be, responsible for cooking a turkey…or 5. Depending on how much I fuck up the other 4 and how many old people will remember to show up for the festivities…should be interesting.
3. Decorating the place where the party will be held which is unknown to me because apparently it’s on a ‘need to know’ basis…not sure how that works with the invited guests…will it be like a scavenger hunt and everybody is given clues to the hidden location and only the ones smart enough to figure it out will actually be in attendance? I’m down with that…half the peeps will end up hanging out at the bar…with me. Nothing like sharing a beer with an old person…

4. Gift for Nanny…since Nanny doesn’t wear jewelry or perfume, that knocks out a lot of gifts. She has knick-knacks beyond knick-knack sensibility and has no need for anything useful like a garlic press…who doesn’t need a garlic press?! Ugh, anyways, this is getting a bit tired so I have to delegate this duty to daughters and son…the garlic press is on its way with the electric knife. BECAUSE EVERYBODY NEEDS AN ELECTRIC KNIFE OTHERWISE HOW WOULD ONE CUT UP THE HOMEMADE BREAD TO MAKE THE BLESSED GARLIC BREAD? See? It all makes sense…

I wish Sis-in-law the best of luck pulling this thing off without me dropping anything, breaking anything or losing any of the gifts en route to the mystery party location…which I will invariably get lost on the way to….
Oh, yeah…there’s wine in this for me, right? RIGHT??!!

80 is the new 70...or something like that.  HAPPY BIRTHDAY...

80 is the new 70…or something like that. HAPPY BIRTHDAY…

 

 

Over the Fence

A wooden fence bordered the frayed sandy path that ran along the property lines in the backyards of the row of townhouses where I lived. Beyond our back fence, there lay a barbed wire fence, laden with greenery and big overhanging trees. From where I stood in my backyard in the burgeoning twilight, the greenery took on an ominous presence. They seemed beckoning to me; mocking our lack of yardage and lush vegetation. Teasing me with open handed limbs knowing I could not pass the rusted barbed wire placed on the top. I wanted so much to hop the fence and wander aimlessly in that backyard. To touch the overhanging tree branches, to feel the cold leaves of the green ferns, to walk barefoot in the cushion of the grass, luxurious and cool under my warm feet. I yearned to explore the secrets the big maple tree stood to protect, the dark spaces under its trunk a haven for hidden treasures and buried dreams. The rooftop of the house owning the backyard was a grey shingle that sloped on an angle to the yard as if leaning over it protectively, ensuring I was aware of its masterdom over the lawn I yearned to grasp and explore. It warned me of impending doom lest I fall to the temptation and crawl through the hole in the bottom of the thick chain link I knew was there. I had watched neighbouring kids bend and crawl, their t-shirts snagged from the jagged edge of the cut steel link then scurry atop that opulent grass, their feet barely touching as they went. I’m sure the owners had some idea as to the hole, but no one ever made any attempt to fix it. The fence served to keep us out, however, allowed the smaller few into the domain. I remained an admirer; a true patron of the green ferns lending their hands to mine across the dusty path.
I watched that backyard grow for eighteen years, its owners changing hands, the green ferns more lush with each passing year, until finally, I could only see the rooftop. The overgrowth finally enveloped the barbed wire fence, barring my vision of the green lawn I was confident was still there. The green lawn I still yearn to wander barefoot across.

chain link night
I dream of standing in my faraway backyard at twilight, looking out at those green ferns and the dark shadows hovering over the grass; that yard that harbored so much of my childhood and longing for greener surroundings.

In Search of The Sun

The cold winds of a winter that have held on to us with their icy grasp have continued to blow and I can’t help but wonder if it will ever end. I’m thinking my down coat will forever become fastened permanently into my wardrobe like the houseguest that refuses to leave. The idea of a warm spring has vanished along with the dreams of gardening a bit early and a green lawn by June. If the weather doesn’t soon cooperate with my yearning for warmth, I could be forced to celebrate another Christmas season a few whole seasons too early. At least with Christmas, there’s some iota of merriment and good cheer. Right now, it’s only dismal loathing of the continual grey skies and minus temperatures. I think I saw a robin shiver this morning. Ugh.
The only bright light on the horizon is the hope of sunny skies, and eventual day or two of above freezing temps. Other than that, we slug along and continue to hope, rescuing our spurned gloves and hats from the bin marked WINTER SHIT for yet another day of arctic air and snowy forecasts. I’ve given in to the notion that my running shorts will only come in to use for that one spectacular day in July when the Gods of Summer bless us with a few hours of sun and heat, and we forget all the polar vortexes and frozen windshields of the previous months. That one cloudless day when we can actually go outside, peel off our winterized coats and outerwear and revel in the warmth of the sun and the glorious hours of daylight we have been envisioning all the long winter. That one dream-like day when the sun shines out of the skies like a beacon of glory and heat, beaming its rays upon our skin, vanquishing the toxic frost that seems to have formed in our bones.
Until such a day, I sit at my desk in my down parka, my fingers numb with the icy bite of cold, my nose dripping from the frosty air, hoping for a glimpse of that big ball of fire we used to call SUN….

Look!  There it is!  Ahhh...warm....

Look! There it is! Ahhh…warm….

 

 

 

Get Out the Shovel, Kids. We Be Hunting Easter Eggs

The warm winds of spring came blowing this morning and in an unusually inspired move, I threw on my running shoes and headed out for the first run of the season. I didn’t die, which is something! I knew it wouldn’t be pretty, but it also wasn’t as bad as I was expecting. I didn’t push too hard and I remained steady…everything else did too. Luckily for me, there was barely anybody out and about ( no, it’s not ‘oot and aboot’..fuck off) so I was virtually invisible! Invisibility is ever so useful (Gawd I’m turning British as I write this. “Evah so wonderful, Fletcha! Fletcha?!” ) I should have Potter’s cloak since I could use it for good and not evil…most of the time. Did I mention I’m planning WORLD DOMINATION through invisibility? No? Huh. Kinda explains ma absence from the world as of late, huh? Huh? I digress….
Anyways, now that I’ve rediscovered my running bug, the weather should cooperate…BECAUSE I SAID SO. It won’t I’m sure, but one can hope. A foot of snow, anybody? Yeah…should be inundating ma driveway by ohhh…SATURDAY MAYBE??!! Ugh.
Happy Easter, Damnit! Here’s some snow and happy shoveling! I hid the chocolate Easter eggs under the mountain of snow and ice, kids. Good luck finding them! Just think how overjoyed you’ll be when you dig through the snow with one of those plastic shovels you use at the beach, and find a practically frozen chocolate egg stuck to the pavement on the driveway. In a spirited display of Easter verve, the neighbour gets out the blow torch and melts that sucker until it’s no longer stuck and just a puddle of chocolate ooziness all over the clean semi-dry pavement. Yummmm….. Don’t get chocolate all over your mittens, kid. Somebody has to clean that shit up! Yay Easter!

These babies are going diving in the snow

These babies are going diving in the snow

Maybe I should hide eggs in the shed, too. Put some in the snow blower so when Hubby goes to use it, EGGS GO A’FLYIN’ !! It’ll be like the turkey toss from WKRP that went horribly awry, only with chocolate eggs flying through the air. The neighbours should watch out, lest they lose an eye from a bulleting Easter egg hurtling through space. “Pat! Duck! You almost got winged by that pretty purple Easter Egg!”


With any luck, her cat will eat it….
Ahhh….it’s all fun until somebody loses an eye.
Happy Easter and play safe with those eggs. No, you can’t borrow my blow torch…I’ll need it come Sunday morning. We’ll be making smores and singing Kumbaya in hopes Spring will return before June…