When I was growing up we used to have large family gatherings friends, and family for Sunday dinners almost every weekend. All the good china, and the silver came out, and none of it could go into the dishwasher. DID YOU HAVE BIG FAMILY DINNERSWHEN YOU WERE YOUNG?And did you enjoy them? When I was young it was great, we were kids and anything different from the norm was exciting, and we didn’t seem to mind all the dishwashing. We were making a family memory. But as I grew into a teenager seeking personal solitude, and privacy those dinners became torturous. Nosy guests commenting on my height, my lack of curves, did I have a boyfriend, [what did they think, first they tell me I’m too tall, then too skinny, LOL.] The prying questions in what felt like such a public setting, groups of adults all peering at me, was not what this shy, sensitive girl needed. They were making a memory, and it wasn’t good, not to mention all the dirty dishes.
I started to detest those dinners, and was more then glad to have them behind me once I reached a adult age, and moved out, it was to be my choice if I attended or not.
After my family moved up country and I was all alone on the coast, the family dinners were few and far between. For years I longed to have impromptu family dinners, I missed them. As part of a married couple we had lots of dinner parties with friends, but it was the family ones that I missed the most. Odd how you can miss something that you didn’t like but I did.
Now that we are all up here together in the North Okanagan we are trying to create the good parts of those dinners, nostalgic haze glossing the bad memories into a burnished glow. No more awkward questions, no more good china, and heirloom silver, just good food, good memories, and not too many dishes. We are making a family memory, one that everyone can enjoy.
All I know is that I had been missing family celebrations for so long… sure there was the occasional one when we were up country here, or family was down on the coast with us when we lived there. It felt so lonely to call on the special days and say hello, send well wishes for birthdays, and other celebrations, and not be there in person. We were one branch of the family tree, but it seemed so far from the trunk. So it was a joy to be finally hosting one of our own, in our own house, for our family celebrating 5 different birthdays, a anniversary, and Easter all at the same time.
The cake came from the same bakery that made our wedding cake, we were married up here, now almost 12 years ago. There were all the birthdays, my Dad’s, nephew’s, niece’s, sister’s, and mine.
And to celebrate, I wanted to do something fun, and nostalgic, that tied all the different birthday people in together. So I gathered together old family photos, I even had one of my Dad as a baby. I printed them out, and pasted them onto paper for a more natural look, and using tiny little clothes pegs pinned them onto branches, or hung them from twine.
Everyone had fun circulating the house looking at the different photos. It was cute to see how we all looked… way back then. My Mom dubbed it the “Family Tree” and the branches are still in my kitchen, I want to leave them up for a little while to enjoy the glimpse into the past.
Kind of feels like we have come full circle, a house, family only 10 minutes in each direction… the branches are strong, the leaves are full, and the tree continues to grow.
Came into the mail again, tried snagging a compli kit to give away to you guys but the agency gal flat out ignored it when I brought it up lol.Like, GBM : Sure sure I'll post it. Also, if you have a compli kit to give away to our readers we could make a promo out of itPR Agency Gal : Thanks for the response. Please see the attached details of the Mchappy day Fun Run for your reference. Thank you!Lol, was I corresponding with an automated robot? I find that really cute.
Anyway, cheap thrills race here, and the chance to ham it up with Ronald Mcdonald and Grimace (I wonder what the drag on that guy is. Wait, is he even a guy??)
Last year's edition said that a ton of freebies were given away. Here are the details :
This November, McDonald’s is celebrating McHappy Day. McHappy Day, formerly known as World Children’s Day, is a global fundraising effort in support of various children’s causes. In the Philippines, McDonald’s celebrates McHappy Day with its 2nd McHappy Day Fun Run this coming November 28 at the Venice Piazza at McKinley Hill, Fort Bonifacio, Taguig.
The McHappy Day Fun Run is a special run to raise P1million for the benefit of the Ronald McDonald House Charities(RMHC), the charity of choice of McDonald’s and its banner program, Bright Minds Read (BMR). Bright Minds Read is a program in partnership with the Department of Education (DepEd) that provides reading toolkits to different public schools all over the country to help students learn beginning reading. To date, over 2,200 public schools nationwide are under the BMR program.
Fun Run Details:
Distances: 500m for kids 7 years old and below, 3K, 5K and 10K. There will be a Family Category in the 3K distance - to qualify, the group or family should be composed of 2 Adults (regardless of gender) and 2 Kids (12 years and younger).
Registration Period: October 15 to November 21, 2010 at McDonald’s stores listed below:
Makati: Bankmer, Buendia, Greenbelt, JAKA, Makati Ave. People Support, PRC, Quad, Rockwell, SM Cyber, SM Makati, Valero. Mandaluyong: Barangka, Edsa Boni, SM Megamall. Manila: Gov Forbes, P Campa, UST. Muntinlupa: Alabang, Las Pinas. Parañaque: Sucat Palanyag. Pasay: ECOM. Pasig: Annex Shaw (WWC), El Pueblo, Frontera Verde, Shangri-la, Shell Emerald, Strata. QC: Banaue, C5 Metropoli, Eastwood Mall, Edsa Panay, Katipunan, Matalino, North Ave., Proj 8, Quezon Ave., SM North Edsa, Timog Tobias, Tomas Morato, Trinoma 1, Trinoma 2, Visayas Ave. San Juan: Greenhills. Taguig: 32nd Street, Forbes Town, Market! Market!, McKinley, Piazza Mall.
Registration Fee (non-refundable): Individual – P350; Group of 4 – P1,250. Any individual excess of 4 will pay P350 each. Proceeds of the Run will go to RMHC.
Registration Fee Includes:
- McHappy Day Fun Run Race Kit: 1 Race Bib (4 Bibs per race Kit for Family Category), McHappy Day Reminders with Route Map
Somewhat of a late share, but getting it out there nevertheless. Runnex habitue and ANR UP Team Lead Sir Rene Villarta sent this over the grapevine. It's a really unique race in Laoag City to be held this February 26th, too bad I couldn't make it because of BDM 160. You get to race through the city's famed sand dunes and other landmarks. They had such a cool time when they went last year, pictures were nothing short of spectacular. Unknown to many, I was also offered an invitation to join on that very same trip but had to decline because of another race (not sure if it was for Conquer Corregidor) Anyway, they had such a blast and I'll be missing it again this year shucks. Maybe next year. But hey, if you ain't doing BDM (or supporting for it) go ahead and give it a shot. It will be well worth the trip.
Here's the official presser for you guys and gals.
After the huge success of “Run Ahead, Raising A Roof” Run held in Laoag City last December of 2009, Triathlete/Runner & Race organizer Faivo Bartolome brings another unique event up North, the “Taray Pamulinawen 2011, Laoag Sand Dunes Challenge” to be held on February 26, 2011 and will start and end at the Laoag City Hall. This race, hosted by the Laoag City government will be a first of a kind wherein runners will be running in the Sand Dunes of La Paz, a municipality of Laoag which is well-known for being the setting of well-known foreign films like Tom Cruise’ “Born On The Fourth Of July”, Mel Gibson’s “Mad Max” series and local films like Nora Aunor’s ”Himala” and the “Panday” series of the late Fernando Poe, Jr. Also known as “The Desert Of The North”, the Sand Dunes of La Paz offers a very challenging terrain not only with its varied uphill climbs but also for its arduous surface which is like threading on very soft and deep desert sands and would be twice as difficult to traverse whenever strong gales coming from the Pacific Ocean blows the sand away and is quite painful once the sand gets into your eyes.
Imagine running through this... The Taray Pamulinawen 2011 sand Dune Challenge is envisioned to become one of the North’s biggest and unique running events that will highlight the City of Laoag as a major tourist destination and an investment mecca. The route will cover some of the most scenic spots in Laoag like its centuries old churches, pristine beaches and some of the old landmarks of the city. The race will feature a 10-mile trail run (which will include the sand dunes), a 10k Road Run, 5k Road Run, 3k Family Run and a 750 meter Kids Dash. Registration fees are as follows: DURATION Jan. 3 – Jan. 31 Early Bird Registration Feb. 1 – Feb. 19 Regular Registration Feb. 20 - Feb. 23 Late Registration CATEGORY 10 mi. Trail Run Php 350.00 Php 400.00 Php 500.00 10km Php 150.00 Php 200.00 Php 250.00 5km Php 150.00 Php 200.00 Php 250.00 3km Family Run Php 150.00 each Php 200.00 each Php 250.00 each 750m Kids Dash Php 100.00 Php 125.00 Php 150.00 DURATION Jan. 3 – Jan. 31 Early Bird Registration Feb. 1 – Feb. 19 Regular Registration Feb. 20 – Feb. 23 Late Registration CATEGORY 10 mi. Trail Run Php 350.00 Php 400.00 Php 500.00 10km Php 150.00 Php 200.00 Php 250.00 5km Php 150.00 Php 200.00 Php 250.00 3km Family Run Php 150.00 each Php 200.00 each Php 250.00 each 750m Kids Dash Php 100.00 Php 125.00 Php 150.00 For other details and to download registration forms, please visit www.laoagcity.gov.ph or call/text 0917-5530050 (Faivo Bartolome).
It all started with a tiny tickle in the back of it’s throat. That funny indescribable feeling that something wasn’t quite right, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. It would stall, as if it seemed to have to think a moment about the next movement, but it was good at hiding it’s imperfections. Quick to cover up it’s mistakes, until finally one day it became very apparent that my desktop computer was showing it’s age. It froze, just simply stopped doing anything, that annoying blink of the cursor no longer visible. After a restart, it seemed to recover, to pull it’s self together and function like it used to in it’s younger glory days.
Like a old dog, it will wheeze, and groan when asked to do new tricks. Photoshop is particularly hard for it now. It takes a long time to recover from a trip to that program. I know it’s warning me, “my time is up, I’ve had a good run, I need to retire now.” But like a old dog, who needs a final trip to the vet, I can’t bear to part with it. This is our first computer, our first foray into the wonderful world of being in touch, and a step onto a hiway of information of such proportions we could never have previously dreamed about. It’s life span is almost over, I have over 20,000 photos on it, [all backed up of course]. And memories, fond memories of bringing it home for the first time. How proud we were to finally get a computer, how in awe of what it could do, how overwhelmed with what we had to learn.
I can’t bear to part with it, no matter what the techs tell us, “you’ve had a good 5 years, that’s a long time for a computer.” It’s part of the family, it’s our first one, we love it. The laptop will do in a pinch, but I don’t enjoy working on it, I need a bigger screen, I need a real keyboard. Compared to the PC the laptop feels like a toy. And the PC is part of our family, and yes, I guess it’s like a beloved pet. And I probably will cry when it finally gives up the ghost. I think that it deserves at least a few tears, don’t you?
I have always loved historical sites, and as a child, we visited Barkerville, a turn of the century cariboo gold rush ghost town. Townspeople dressed in costumes, there were restored heritage buildings, and daily shows of the hurdy gurdy girls, kicking up their heels.
It was all fun, but what really fascinated me was the graveyards. The handmade markers telling a story, many of them tragic. I was especially fond of Scotch Janeny, a woman killed when her horse and buggy startled and overturned. There were rumours that her ghost would drive up behind a unsuspecting tourist, hoping to startle them.
My sister, Turf Toter, lives in the Okanagan, near a very old cemetery. With some of the grave markers dating back to the early 1800's. We visited it a few times, respectfully, walking through the paths, wondering who these people were. There were many people that died at one time, and it was a mystery that haunted me for many years.
While visiting friends that live in the Cariboo Interior, I mentioned my fascination with the mystery to them. We found out that his family being one of the founding members of the town of Enderby, had many relatives buried there. They showed me a old album, full of newspaper clippings, photos, letters, invitations, all memories of a lives lived. It had been passed on to him, and was a historical treasure. In it were the clues to all the mysterious grouping of deaths. Original newspaper clippings, and photographs of the disaster. A fire roared through the turn of the century town, killing many inhabitants, including a family that hid in a well to escape the fire. Many residents took shelter in the bank vault, surviving the blaze. Enderby rebuilt, and suffered another fire, and a flood. But to this day it still stands, a tribute to the pioneer spirit.
Me, I still have a fascination with old cemeteries, and gravestones, so look out, this is the spookiest week of the year.
Early, on a dark winter morning, freezing feet shuffling in front of the open door of the fridge, blankly staring into the bright shining depths, I came to a realization. One: it was dark outside, and cold. Especially with the fridge door open.
Winter was encroaching, or here, shiver. And the white snow gleaming outside under the yellowed cast of lights from our kitchen windows only served to make it feel even colder inside. Two: I had absolutely no idea what to make for dinner. And the most important. We were out of homemade strawberry jam. Gone, kaput, spoon rattling in a empty jar, totally out of jam. And it’s only December. Except. For the glistening jar of dark purple colored summer gem, that has sat half full, or half empty depending upon your perspective. Mocking us. Disrespected, ignored, in the fridge since it was opened a little while ago by a well meaning family member, who shall remain unnamed, but blamed? Neglected, this particular homemade jam is the wall flower of summer.
The remaining 5 jars crammed into the corner of the freezer, wrapped in multiple layers of plastic bags to hide it’s disapproving stares. Ignored, lonely, sad, and forlorn. Not for this jam the glorious taste testing dip of a spoon each time the metal lid is pried off of the glass mason jar. Nor would the heady fragrance of a strawberry summer waft into the kitchen as it is smeared onto toast, spread over pancakes, and spooned over the mornings bounty of homemade yogurt. We take jam seriously around here, when your Sister has a Strawberry farm, you pretty much have it made in the jam department. But this… this jam was the black sheep of summer. The honeyed tryst of too many berries, too tired of a jam maker, the love child of August, and September, was shunned by all of us. Unloved. And it showed. Was that mold growing at the top of the jar, glittering lights shining from the fridge through the indented glass jar showed a smear of whitish mould. I silently cheered, and then felt really bad that I was conjuring up a reason to rid ourselves of the accusing jar of jam that no one liked. The one that despite all encouragement, bribery, begging, no one would eat, sitting unwanted on the gleaming glass shelf of the fridge. I gave myself a scolding for looking for a reason to remove that unrelenting dark purple glass stare. Despite the fact that it pushed it’s self to the front each time the light was shut off, and the door closed. It’s not like it came from a bad family, or had a unbalanced upbringing… it’s just that the mix of blueberries, cherries, and rhubarb was as my husband put it. It`s fine it`s just not your Mom’s strawberry jam.
Her jam is a heady mix of ambrosia. Hot summer days, perfectly ripened Okanagan strawberries gently picked by hand, in the early morning heat, sugar, and love. Opening a jar of her freezer jam is like no other memory of summer. Despite the repeated batches she makes, whipping up berries, and sterilizing every jar she can find, there is never enough to last through the winter. Unless we were to eat the “I’m too tired after making Peach jam, apricot jam, salted brown sugar peach jam, and cherry jam to do anything with these blueberries, and rhubarb kind of jam” that I had thrown together at the end of the summer. So the love child of summer languishes in the fridge, growing new types of bacteria, ignored, unloved, unspooned, and regretted. While the strawberries of summer giggle in our warm memories. But Christmas is coming, and there are many unsuspecting friends who might just love to receive a jar of dark purple summer. I have a freezer full of them. No regifting allowed.
The morning that we left Armstrong to come home, we made sure to stop by my parents place and have a visit. My Mom took me out to see her share of the community garden, it's towering sunflowers dwarfing her, with their nodding yellow heads. She picked some kale for us to take home with us that she had seeded herself, and we walked among the sunflowers while I took lots of photos.
It was a short moment, one that I am cherishing. We don't see my family very often, and the visits can be intense with their busyness. These quiet few moments of connection are even more special to me, and I can pull them out anytime I am lonely for family. I had picked up some gorgeous April Cornell place mats, and cloth napkins with a sunflower motif to give to her as a parting gift. She adored them, and has always loved any of April Cornell's work. We noticed how they matched with the sunflower cards I had made for her so I spread them out, and took some photos. When I got home that night, and was reading blogs, I noticed that April Cornel's blog was featuring her designs for tablecloths, and one of them was the exact same sunflower pattern that I had given to my Mom. A small coincidence, but every time I see a sunflower now, I have this great memory of the time I walked through Mom's garden with her.
Tomorrow is our one year anniversary. A few days ago my beloved turned to me and said, it’s almost our first anniversary… my mind roamed frantically. Was it a romantic anniversary, the day we met, the day we first dated, the day… did I forget something? One year ago we slept the last night in our little condo, Boo terrified by the lack of furniture and the noise the bare echoing walls made lurked under the blow up bed all night.
Little did he know what a adventure he was in for, sharing his life with two dogs on the farm, and then another move into a great big forever house with his very own territory to roam in.
His life has changed so much for the better, and so has ours. Dreams do come true, we know that, sometimes they change a little, well a lot along the way, but they are still the dreams that you dream.
I am thankful that we were transplanted up here when we were. My family has gone through a pretty stressful year, there’s been cancer, illnesses, laughs and love.
I would rather be here to share it with my family then down on the coast, aching to be with them. Those five hours of driving have kept us too far away, and I don’t know how we would have dealt with it without being here.
Now we live where we only once dreamed of being… It’s been a year in more ways than one.
Why hello there old friends. It's been nearly two weeks since my last entry. I don't think that's ever happened. Ever. My inactivity is but a testament to the volume of work that I have been putting up lately. I've been doled up in the Gingerbread Cave, doing boring, tedious Gingerbread research, even going 38 straight hours without sleep. Yes, it's a sad Gingerbread life. I am so out of the loop. The stress has rendered me a sunken, disheveled shell of my former self.While taking my ITB recovery one step at a time, good ol' GBM is relegated to finding a new hobby to take his mind off things. ANY hobby. I'm desperate. The search begins now... .
The Competitive Drinker
Ranked #4 in Barangay Hulo In my solace, I considered visiting the hunting grounds of an old, familiar foil - beloved Internet Legend Tito Caloy. Equally renowned for both his longevity in pulling out 27k LSD's as with his propensity to obliterate entire Emperador bottles , he pitched me into entering his "realm", a place where there were no limits, where your mind could take you wherever you wished. As much as that sounded like my running dictum, a bottle of Johnny Walker Black in full view jolted me back into the absurdity of the situation.
Yum?
Uncle Bob's Spartan Regimen
I was introduced by Tito Caloy to the undisputed champion drinker of his barangay, a luminary who goes by the monicker Uncle Bob. The current Philippine record holder in the 10 liter Wines/Spirits category, legend has it he once drank 2 kegs of Red Horse just for fun.Apparently, he would be grounding me into the wonderful world of competitive drinking.
Coach Teteng : How many bottles can you drink in one session? GBM : I can drink 5 bottles max I think. CT: Seriously? You drink like a girl. GBM: Um, I'd like to think I drink more than a girl. CT:You need more training! You're a disgrace to the family name! Your uncle is a tremendous drinker! GBM: Ugh, I'd like to think that I don't really drink because I run and I... CT: Oh whatever just drink this its good for you! GBM: !!!!
Uncle Bob during warm-up Uncle Bob told me to do a warm-up "lap" of 3 bottles of San Mig Light before proceeding to our training session. Listen newbie, I will be training you to be the best of the best. I hate mediocrity. Let's start with the secret of every competitive drinker's success - the LSD. LSD?? Yes, the LSD. Stands for Long Slow Drinking. As you aim to increase the tempo and intensity of your drinking sessions, you need to build your base tolerance first. Concentrate on adding more and more bottles per session to develop your BO2Max (Maximium Bottle Overload). Add base bottle mileage by at least 8% every week and you will be on your way to reaching the level of your uncle. Do you know that he has a pace of 2.4 bottles/min at Max LC (liver capacity)? Tremendous drinker. So many tambays here strive to be just like him, such an inspiration.
Either the "warm-up lap" got me drunk or I just really miss running that much , as I could have sworn that Uncle Bob was channeling beloved Takbo.ph mod Coach Pojie right then and there. Saddened at the mere thought of my erstwhile lifeblood, I thanked Uncle Bob for his time, told him it wasn't for me and while absorbing his stinging "you're a disgrace to your family" diatribe (he was on his 3rd Johnny Walker B. by this time), slowly found my way to the door... ... .
There are posts that sing in your heart, some loudly, some softly,… no demands, they just ask to be set free, to be published. Some come unbidden, easy to write, easy to read. Joyful words describing beautiful seasons, and the beauty of nature. We all like to read those, life is hard enough without reading tales of woe in a blog.
And then there are others, a need, demand, not as pleasant to read, but so desperately wanting to be set free so I can move forward. I’ve found that by recording a moment, a memory I no longer allow it to keep my nights, my days, and my life hostage. They are rarely shared. This one escaped, it feels so intensely personal, I didn’t want it to, but it did. You might remember my Dad went into the hospital because of ill health, during his stay there he fell and broke his hip, which extended his stay by months… and we thought that was hard. It was only the beginning of a very long, difficult and heartbreaking journey that is not finished yet. One that we as family can only offer as much support and love as possible. It’s hard for him, and for us, it takes my heart, my love, and my time to be there with my parents. I am trying to help them out in any way I can. Dementia is a nasty disease, a wicked awful mind stealing disease that sneaks up behind you and wallops you with a club, lets you stagger off to partially recover, and then does it all over again. Not nice words at all, but Dementia doesn’t deserve them. It has stolen too many of my family members… and now it’s hitting my Dad. Life maybe just life, but this… this is beyond fair. I’m angry, I’m upset, I’m worried, and most of all I am sad. This isn’t a post about sadness, and fear so much as the effort it takes to be there, smile, and encourage during a very difficult situation, we have all been there, or will deal with troubles in some way. I know that, and my heart goes out to all of you as you struggle with difficulties also. In the end we should know that we have done all we can to help, no matter what the struggles against us were. This is a post that didn’t come out quietly, it kicked, screamed, shouted, and it continues to do so. It won’t be quieted by frequent power outages, computer glitches, or my unwillingness to publish it. It wants to be heard, noticed, felt. It want’s you to realize that Dementia is a epidemic, and as much as you think it won’t happen to you, it could happen to any of us or those we love. I wish there was a happy ending, I tried to give it the best I could, the journey continues. And I will completely understand if you are end up not knowing what to say… that’s OK. This is not a poem, it’s not a rant, it’s a rendition of a heartbreaking day, one that is etched too closely on my heart. But in those painfully carved words, there is hope, and there is love.
Life, it’s just life . Fragile shell enveloping egg dropped onto hard floor, slimy splatters, cat prints lead away from the scene of the crime. It’s not his fault. Juice tipped onto morning paper, soaked, soggy orange scented old news. That’s life Power out… heat wave, stifling hot. No sleep, hot days, foggy brains. That’s life. Moving day, worry, concern, positive thoughts, cheerful, fake happy. Check for the words now tattooed on your heart. “It’s the disease, not the person.” You are a rock. You are a island. Simon and Garfunkel knew what they were talking about. That’s life. Free hour left on parking ticket handed through the rolled down window of a slow passing car. Goodness of strangers. That’s life. Thank goodness for life.
Last time walking through cloud of smokers, hacking over IV stands. Familiar face tugs at my memory, daughter of one left behind, revealed as neighbour from my now far away ocean. My old home, my old life. Keep in touch, good luck, I wish we had met again sooner. But we can’t wait to leave. We hope never to come back. That’s life Thank goodness for life. Moment of calm, breath deep, but for the smells of old, air, memories, hopes, and dreams, escaping through art deco gold painted grating on elevator wall. Smiles, good wishes fond on your heart, breaking tears into smaller drops. Heat, never ending hot, shiny sun. Pack the car, don’t forget anything, him, nervous… upset, hold back the tears. That’s life. His words accusing us of betrayal, no thanks for all he has done for us through the years, overriding our words of comfort, preparation, photos shown and forgotten, change overwhelming, he does not care. Be the rock, be the island for all of you. Clean, quiet, beautiful surroundings does not replace chaos, disregard, and dirty linens in his mind. Kindness and attentiveness of the nurses, friendliness of the residents ignored. That’s life. It’s the disease, not the person. But oh it aches, it hurts. Where are you Dad? That’s life. Go back to where you swore you would never return, forgotten items, disbelief on his face as you leave without him, take me back there… Promises made I will be back, I don’t want to go, but I will be back. Drop off at downtown pharmacy, street person asks money for popsicle… decision, change for meter, or popsicle donation. Ticket versus treat. Wish it wasn’t asked, wish I had both.
That’s life Hot, sweaty tires black on pavement, roads closed, worry, lost, found, rushing. Situation same. Keep up the hope. Homemade Ginger snaps, cold juice. They know what happens here, how much of it is life. Sugar high. Situation low. Immaculate garden gazed upon through his window, holds a flower. Despite his refusal to mellow, to bend, to look. Shines above all else, single stemmed brilliant petals perfectly displayed. It tells me yes this will get better, it will get easier. It’s determination despite the heat to show how beautiful life is, tells me I am not the only rock. There are other islands. This is life Thanks goodness for life. Tears from your Mother. Smile from a stranger. A hug. That’s life? Is that life? Thank goodness for life, as painful as it is right now.
If you would like more information about Alzheimer’s/Dementia this is a link to the Canadian site.
If you are of a certain age you might remember the days when almost everything was closed on Sundays. Family dinners meant setting out the good china, and maybe even the real silver. No one cut the lawn at 8 am, and there was definitely no blow drying of the driveway mashing the quiet. Sunday drives were the most excitement that you saw, and everything was quiet in your neighbourhood except for the birds chirping. Now we have sports practices, and Sunday store openings.lawn cutting starts at 7:30, if not earlier, radios are blaring, dogs barking, the neighbourhood rushing everywhere, and it makes me nostalgic for the good old days when Sundays were silent.
Not a oppressive silence, it was family time, we took Sunday drives, watched movies on TV, played outside, went to Church, or Sunday School, and generally had a great time.
What happened to those days? When did it become so popular to cut and trim the grass on Sunday mornings? Let’s bring back the silence of Sunday. Let’s put away the mowers, the blowers, and the weed wackers, the power tools,… for one day. I know you work all week, and you don’t have time to get to it on Saturday, but lets give it a try. Relax, let the weeds thrive, let the lawn go lush with the extra days length… cut it one evening when the light is golden. Cut it early Saturday morning if you must, but leave Sunday silent. Stop working on that noisy project with all of those power tools, turn off the radio, walk the dog, play with the kids, pull out the BBQ, just leave the noise behind. Please.
In the midst of yet another lawn mower starting it’s endless circling of the grass, the noise drifting from a radio blaring, and the incessant dog barking, it makes me yearn to hear the silence of Sunday’s. What about you?
Wishing you a Merry Christmas, may your days be merry and bright. May your season be filled with joy, home baking, scent of fresh greens, and bright shining lights. Christmas trees, sparkles, family time, and love. And should you live somewhere cool and frosty, a white Christmas.
We had the most wonderful hoar frost the other morning, here is a frosty fingered capture. I’m taking a few days off of social media, to spend time with my family, and enjoy the season. All we need is a bit of snow… it’s looking like it’s not going to be much of a White Christmas, which is almost unheard of here. But that won’t matter, our days will be merry and bright. I am wishing you a very Merry Christmas, and look forward to hearing about yours.
SLUGFESTALISHOUS 2008! "Be there or be slimy" Every SLUG and SNAIL is invited to the 1st annual SLUG FEST — FAMILY FUN NIGHT Lots of free SAFERS SLUG BAIT to munch on. Bring all your family members and friends who are hiding under my pots, and munching on my plants. Everyone invited! EXCITING CONTESTS HOSTA EATING — Who can eat Jane's hosta's the fastest? DEVOUR — the perfect impatiens leaves just the pretty white ones EAT DOWN TO NOTHING — The gorgeous russet colored sunflowers she grew from seed. MUNCH — all the bedding plant blossoms All you can eat SAFER'S SLUG BAIT CONTESTAll entry fees go towards purchasing more safer's slug bait.Party starts after dark tonight.
I’m looking forward to taking part in Brenda from A Cosy Little House’s new series on Thrifty Living 2012. In this series, there will be five women sharing the individual struggles they face economically with their families in a particular region.Each week [Thursday] one of us, Brenda,Claudia,Elaine, Diane, and myself will feature a topic on how we are living more thriftily in the year 2012. Then the rest of us will add our own paragraph or so on how we apply that to our own lives.
We run the gamut. Brenda is a single family household. Claudia and Don live with their two dogs in New York. Elaine has a small daughter, and grown children in Southern California. Diane and Ron live in Florida and are retired. Gar and I have just relocated to another part of BC, Canada and have just bought our first house.
So here’s my introduction:
My name is Jane. My husband, along with Bootsie our cat, and I have just moved up to the North Okanagan, in BC, Canada. We moved from a small condo in White Rock, near the beach to the gorgeous mountains, cold winters, and hot summers of the Okanagan to be near my family. It's a huge change for us, going from 850 sq. ft. condo, to 1st time homeowners of a real house! The first thing I would have to say, is it's expensive to do this, from the move, to the house purchase it's been a big drain on our finances. Like everyone else we have a budget that we have to live within.
So while I might dream of tearing out the kitchen right away, and replacing all the brass colored door handles, along with the interesting light fixtures, reality will take over as soon as we move into our new home. And that's where Thrifty Living 2012 comes in. I am going to have to dig deep, and be creative in order to make this house our home without breaking the bank.
We will be living in a rural area, it's a long drive to the grocery store, or to a job, there is no Friday night take out around here. We plan on recycling as much of our waste as possible, because there isn't any garbage pick up, no mail at the door, and I am not sure if there is even any cable.
As soon as summer comes along I am going to learn to can, and freeze summer fruits, and veggies for the winter months. I have big plans for a garden, and I love to cook, usually making most of our meals from scratch because of my severe allergies to so many foods, and additives. I also make my own cleaning solutions because I am allergic to the commercial ones that you would buy in the store.
It's going to be fun, and interesting, and I am sure that you will pick up some great tips from our series on Thrifty living 2012.
To read the introductions from the rest of this team, go over to:
Brenda of Cozy Little House
Claudia of Mockingbird Hill Cottage
Elaine of Sunny Simple Life
Diane of Lavender Dreams
I am heading off to read the other introductions, and get to know the other bloggers in this series, talk to you later.
“Oh isn’t this nice!” That’s my Mom’s usual refrain now when ever we get together as a family. What was supposed to be clean up duty turned out to be a small family gathering in the sunshine at the farm, and she was simply delighted with the results. It’s her usual refrain “Nowisn’tthis nice, and shemeans she isabsolutelyadoring the fact thatallof her chicks are together.” With my Husband pulling up all the veggies for the compost pile, and rolling up the water hoses, we started to put the community farm garden to bed.
Mom puttered among the flowers, Dad was in the workshop building a cabinet for my Niece, my Nephew and Sister hung out with us, and the farm dogs, we all enjoyed the sunshine, and doughnuts.
It’s a real farm fresh feeling, watching them pull up that garlic, although it looks like it could have had a touch more water. Gathering the last of the tomatoes off of the vines, plucking kale leaves for dinner. And finding yet another hidden patch of potatoes, and onions, growing from those left behind the year before.
We found pumpkins, squash, gourds, and watermelons, all growing in between the corn stalks. Some hybridized beyond recognition, all bumpy, and warty, parts dark green, and others brilliant oranges. I can’t wait to have a warty pumpkin at my front door.
Although the farm garden was a lot of work, and near the end of the summer I couldn’t go anywhere close to it because of allergies, it was worth the experience. Harvesting…
3rd Bloggiversary!!!! It’s that time of year when I look at the first post I had written for Muddy Boot Dreams three years ago, cringe, and quickly click out of it. Something's are best left undisturbed. Time and space are good things, they bring growth, and perspective, along with so many great bloggy friends. Too many to count on all of my fingers, and toes, Bootsie please come here, I need to borrow your paws, and your claws. Thank you! I need to thank each and every person that has ever left a comment on my blog. And I am sure that my friends, and family thank you also. If it were not for you, they would still be held captive as I lugged yet another photo album lovingly created with images captured by my camera, to their lap, and encourage them to page through the ever increasing pile. Oh it’s just a few thousand photos that I have taken over the summer… they cringed I am sure. Because of you, my family and friends now have conversations, instead of picture viewing, and if they do show a interest in my photography then there are still enough framed photos on our walls to keep them busy for awhile. Or I can direct them to my blog. No really, thank you!! Thank you for being such a great audience, I adore all of you, especially those of you who leave such wonderful comments. No that’s not a soppy tear in my eye, it’s the flash from the sparklers, on the celebratory cupcakes. Of which regretfully I have no photos of, so use your imagination, besides this way it’s calorie free. Muddy Boot Dreams turned 3 today, and we are officially out of the toddler stage. In bloggy years it’s like we are middle aged, yes, I would even venture to say it’s like having a 40th birthday. Not that I have one of those coming up next year again, or anything… Hugs to all of you,
[All these shots are from last winter, noreal snow yet around here, thankfully]. We all have that list of to do stuff some of it’s more fun then others: Since this is our first winter in our own house, we are dealing with winterizing chores that we never had to do before, wrapping taps, taking in hoses, fall clean-up. Planting the last of the half price shrubs into the garden. Granted they are still in their pots, and plunged into the soil, but they are all in, whew… until next spring. What upcoming winter chores have you been putting off? Will you get to them?
No frost yet, two very light snows, we got the shrubs in under the wire. Getting more soil to top up the garden beds: Looks like it will probably be next spring for that, with the constant rain, it’s a mud ball out there, I am not into making mud pies in the cold. My Mom has been squirreling away tulip bulbs, and each time I saw her she had bought more, next spring she will come and visit them in my garden. “Mom, look it’s your Grand-bulb babies.”
Next on the list is moving the pumpkin display, away from the front door, so excited “Trick or Treater’s” won’t knock anything down as they deafen the poor cat with the ringing doorbell. He is going to freak, since he has rarely heard it ring.
Notice the new badge on my sidebar? I’m excited to have been invited as a contributor to the Farm Chick Chit Chat blog featuring all things “Farmie”. Everyone there is very friendly, and I am looking forward to getting to know them. Click through on the badge to visit the blog, and be sure to visit their FB page also.
So… I am now going to do a few other off putting winter chores, no really I don’t want to, but I must.
Our tree is up, although I have my doubts as too how long it will stay standing, since the Boo is fascinated by the scents and smells coming from it. He decided to give it a sniff and then tried to climb into the top of the tree from the couch. Good thing he was sleepy and gave up quickly. It’s our first tree, in our first house, and although it’s not a huge tree, it’s ginormous in our hearts.
No more sneaking in the cut tree through the ground floor patio door, in the dark and the rain. When we lived in the condo we were only allowed to have artificial trees, [fake baby, fake], and as much as I am not a rule breaker, I needed a real Christmas tree in my life. So we would shut the sheers and hope that no one walking by noticed the aroma of fresh cut greens coming from our hallway door.
After the holidays out came the tarps, and the pruning saws, as we chopped branches into little pieces and stuffed them into black plastic bags. You have not celebrated Christmas until you stuff your normally 6 foot tree into a 10 black plastic bags and haul it out bit by bit to the dumpster. Crossing your fingers so that no dumpster diver decides to see what that lumpy black bag might hold and break it open.
That’s if there was room in the dumpster, there were years we had to portion out the bags over a few weeks because the dumpster was too full. I would know that we had hit the mother lode of a empty dumpster when my husband ran into the condo, whooping with joy, “get the bags” he would say…
Oh Christmas tree, we love you even more now because we can take you to the curb. A DAY OF BLOGGING SILENCE: On Tuesday December 18th please consider posting only the graphicprovided through this linkin silence and support for Sandy Hook, bloggers all over the world will be silent that day, please spread the word among your blogging friends so they can participate also if they wish.If you would like to donate to theThe Newtown Family Youth and Family Services, you can follow this link to their site, all money donated will go directly to those affected by the Sandy Hook elementary school shooting.
The favourite season for tourists in the Okanagan has to be summer, with families coming to enjoy the beautiful scenery, majestic mountains, and sparkling crystal clear lakes.
A hands down favourite for both kids and adults alike is marshmallow harvest time. Coinciding with the end of school, tours book up quickly so don’t wait. S ummer’s soft billowing heat and sunny skies are heralding a bumper crop this year, and its undoubtedly going to be a popular one among locals and tourists alike. Farmers are busy at work in the countryside, pulling together the ingredients to make the white orbs. From generation to generation, father to child, these family recipes have been used by marshmallow farmers for as long as the locals can remember, and are closely guarded secrets. Communities hold competitions for sweetest, tastiest, and fluffiest marshmallows, with winners holding bragging rights throughout the year. Each farmer has his own special mixture which will be used to create puff after puff of giant mounds of sweetness seen dotting the rolling fields every summer. After baking in the sun for a few days they will be perfectly plump, and luscious, and gleaming white. Farmers will then gather up the giant morsels and ship them off to special holding areas called barns until they have reached the right stage of deliciousness and are ready for market.
Imagine the joy of biting into one of these pieces of delightfully gooey, sticky sweet confection, with their slippery threads of melting sugar dripping onto your chin. Millions of people all over the world are waiting for the newest crop to hit the stores, and clamouring for more. Their popularity is growing beyond anything the Marshmallow marketing boards could dream up, and fans can be found all over the world. Marshmallows are one of the Okanagan’s most popular exports second only to our award winning wineries in sales. With new and improved machinery, and careful tweaking of the secret recipes, marshmallows are predicted one day to overtake wine sales which will be a stupendous accomplishment indeed. We are told that there are exciting new flavours in the works but we can’t let that secret out yet.
Sold as a companion item to the marshmallows these untoasted graham crackers can be seen where they have left out in fields left to ripen. They will be harvested when they have turned a toasty brown, which takes a few weeks. Graham crackers were accidentally found to be the perfect addition to campfires, and backyard barbeques when someone sandwiched toasted marshmallows in between them. It is thought they might have originally used them to stop the marshmallows from sticking to their fingers. Adding in chunks of chocolate have made them even more popular among the foodie crowd. The trend caught on very quickly and they are now called S’mores. The name most likely originating from the gooey sugar coated tongues of children requesting some more. Make sure to mark the Okanagan marshmallow harvest as a family must have trip, it’s a sweet time that you will enjoy the memories from for years. I’ve got some really great news today about my blog, it’s “doing the happy dance” kind of good news. Blogher has syndicated one of my original posts, it’s being publishing today on their site. If you haven’t had a chance to read it, or even if you have, please go on over and check it out and give ‘em some bloggy love. There is a Blogher badge on my top sidebar, or you can use this link to see it, and if you wanted to click on a few of the share icons I would really appreciate it also. Naked Niche bloggers why we don’t fit the mould
