What's Up Doc?

When the kids were little, every other week we were in the doctor's office due to an infection or bizarre-looking rash. Doc would send me off with a prescription or advice for the kids' ailments and off we'd go. As Mike and I are approaching middle age, it's us that always seem to be in the doctor's office with an infection or bizarre-looking rash. The only difference is, when we go to the doctor we are required to get blood tests, hand over stool samples and God only knows what else Doc has up his sleeve that day (besides our colons).

I think Doc has a colon-cleansing fetish. ......

Doc told me to eat a salad every day. I can do that .....I love salads! I may miss a day or two because, face it, I don't have somebody making my meals for me. Doc told me to take Metamucil every day. That I cannot do. I'm okay with the taste of it, believe it or not, but it's the painful side effects it has on me. Doc tells me I need to soak in the bath tub 2-3 times a day with epsom salts. Ummm, I don't have somebody to run my bath and yell "You're bath is ready, Rebecca!" so I'm shooting for 2 times a week?? .....maybe?? Doc tells me to drink more water. Ookaaay, if I drink more water my back teeth will start floating but I'll see what I can do. Doc says come back in ten days and tell me how it's going. Oh yeah, I'll come back. "I love coming to see you!" (I get the over-the-glasses look again.)

I know I need to exercise...doing stretches just doesn't cut it...especially for my heart. I don't want to end up like my parents  --  over-worked and out of shape.

I figured I did pretty good when I stopped smoking in 2006. I quit that nasty habit with the help of nicotine gum. Gum was probably not the best solution because then I was addicted to that for 10 years. When I talked to my doctor about it, 3 years into the gum addiction, he told me that it was better than smoking. Okay, good. My jaw took a beating all those years but eventually I got off of that too.

I know I'm getting older and for the most part I'm okay with that....although I thought I just turned 18 until recently when I couldn't find my reading glasses and they were on the top of my head. Hmmm. I was looking for those things for quite some time too.

Thankfully, hubby and I have never had very serious health issues but as we're aging and dangling around the half-century mark, we're seeing our health in a new light. But Doc, do we really need to go through all the colon-cleansing? I think he needs to calm down with that.....is this his addiction, I wonder? 

Reading Books is What I Do

Clan of the Cave Bear

This novel of awesome beauty and power is a moving saga about people, relationships, and the boundaries of love. Through Jean M. Auel’s magnificent storytelling we are taken back to the dawn of modern humans, and with a girl named Ayla we are swept up in the harsh and beautiful Ice Age world they shared with the ones who called themselves the Clan of the Cave Bear. A natural disaster leaves the young girl wandering alone in an unfamiliar and dangerous land until she is found by a woman of the Clan, people very different from her own kind. To them, blond, blue-eyed Ayla looks peculiar and ugly--she is one of the Others, those who have moved into their ancient homeland; but Iza cannot leave the girl to die and takes her with them. Iza and Creb, the old Mog-ur, grow to love her, and as Ayla learns the ways of the Clan and Iza’s way of healing, most come to accept her. But the brutal and proud youth who is destined to become their next leader sees her differences as a threat to his authority. He develops a deep and abiding hatred for the strange girl of the Others who lives in their midst, and is determined to get his revenge.

Oh my goodness, is this ever a great book to read! I should have read this classic years ago. If you're going to do the short-cut way and watch the movie, I'll tell you right now that the movie doesn't do this story justice. (It rarely does.) I watched bits and pieces of the movie online when I was almost finished reading it and found watching the movie painful.

The days where I was only able to read two or three pages and then didn't get back to Clan of the Cave Bear for a couple of days (by then I'm having withdrawal symptoms), I would totally remember where I left off and what had happened in those last few pages. Everything is unforgettable in this book. There are several more books of this series but I'm not sure if I'll have time to read them all. I have stuff on my plate right now, but maybe when I'm retired and living on an island, ahem, I'll get to the rest of the series.

Right now I'm reading a Stephen King book. Nope, not a novel. It's a book called On Writing, A Memoir of the Craft. In his witty way, (he's hilarious actually) he talks about his life and gives advice on good writing. I love Stephen King's written work and many of the movies based on his books tickle me pink. I've read several of his books over the years and although I lean towards non-fiction, every now and then I just have to pick up a King book. I mean it, I HAVE TO. His books are like using an occasional drug..... sometimes I feel like my brain needs to let loose. This guy has been pumping out books like a machine-gun so there's no shortage to choose from. His books from decades ago are just as enthralling as the ones he's written in the last couple of years.

So for any of my fellow bookworms who haven't read Clan of the Cave Bear, go ahead and dive in. Let me know what you think. Give me your opinion of the rest of the series too....no spoilers! 

Who's Donald Drunk?

My dad died in December 2003. On the day of the funeral, it was bitterly cold. I mean bite-me cold...... -30 was the high temp that particular day. No kidding. Dad was 81 years old when he died and in his later years was a heavy drinker and grumpy as hell. Growing up with him was no picnic but even when we didn't get along, we still got along.

Although most times we didn't see eye-to-eye, we still had conversations. These conversations would get quite interesting and I wish I could thank him now because I have plenty of patience when speaking with people with hearing impairments and strong opinions.

If I could talk to him today, I'm thinking the conversation may go something like this:
"Knock, knock"
He'd look at me over his glasses. "The damn door is open"
"How are you?"
We would go through the usual formalities....how's everyone doing?....etc.
"Since you've been gone, some really weird stuff has been going on"
"Oh, really? What have I missed?"
"Well, our country voted in Justin Trudeau as Prime Minister last year."
"Who is this Justin? Any relation?"
"Pierre's son"
Dad stares at me for about a minute.
"What the ****? This country is going to hell in a hand basket. He's just a snot-nosed kid." Shakes his head.
"Not only that but the Alberta people voted in NDP as well."
"What the Sam Hill? What are they thinking?"
"Aaand the US just voted for a new president this week. Donald Trump won."
"Who's Donald Duck? Somebody actually named their kid that?"
"Close ...but no, Donald Trump" I say it slower and louder.
Dad stares at me again. "Donald's Drunk?"
"Pretty much.....Donald Trump. He's a real estate mogul. Rich bastard. Even paid for his own campaign. He's got absolutely no experience in politics and now he's President of the United States. Isn't that something?"
"They're all bastards, Rebecca, don't kid yourself."

Today I see where his train of thought was heading. Several years ago I didn't or didn't want to. I knew him well enough that when Justin Trudeau was voted in for PM of Canada, I could feel my dad twitching in his grave.

I sometimes look back at the few pictures that I have of him. He's really handsome...definitely a man. He was fearless. Worked too hard to keep his family fed, clothed and a roof over our heads. Back in the day, I'd watch him work on the farm and although he had a slim build, he had muscles popping out all over his arms and back. He could flip a 300 lb pig like nobody's business. He didn't work out--just worked. He was loyal and stubborn. He was easily irritated by hypocrisy and stupid people. Dad would go absolutely livid if he found out somebody was bullshitting him. He was an engineer at heart and the smartest man I've ever known. (Maybe it's the little girl in me talking, looking up at her daddy). He and my mom bought 10 acres of land in 1968 for $2000 and it took them 20 years to pay it off. (So those neighbors of my mom's, if any of you are reading this, and you'd like to have coffee with her AGAIN to discuss the sale of some her land....fuhgeddaboudit....it ain't gonna happen.)

Hmmm....I see a little bit of myself in him...and not the handsome or muscular part.

In 1941 or 1942, when my dad would've been about 19 years of age, and World War 2 was in full swing, the government and military boys came a-calling to my Grandpa's farm in rural Manitoba. All the conscientious objectors were collected and carted off to the Headingley Correctional Centre to pay for their crimes of not responding to the draft. Needless to say, my dad and some of his brothers were on that bus. Dad spent a year in the klink. "It was the most well-run jail at that time. Some of us even learned how to cook," he would say with a smirk. He said the guards loved having all those Manitoba farm boys incarcerated. I think he regretted the decision of not fighting for our country later on, but he never said anything. He saw how soldiers were treated by the Mennonite churches in our area and was very disgusted. (Another reason why our family stopped going to church, I think.)

So as I'm standing there in the graveyard on that frightfully (insert your favorite expletive here) cold afternoon in December, 2003 waiting for my turn to shovel his grave closed, all I'm thinking about is how damn cold it is and this is what dad would have done for me.

Hurting Hearts

I heard on the news recently that a 59 year old man broke into a home in the early hours and sexually assaulted the young girl whose bedroom was in the basement of the home. That just pissed me off. I shook my head and carried on with my day. This afternoon my son texts me that he's coming home early from school because he's quite shaken and can't focus. His friend was raped a couple of nights ago. Now there's a connection. Now my heart hurts.

Something like this happens and it affects so many people. I can't imagine what her parents are feeling! How about her neighbors? relatives? teachers? I have an idea how her friends and their parents are feeling. My heart hurts thinking about all of them.

What's the justice system going to do with him? Apparently not much. He's done this kind of thing before.....for over 10 years! He's out of jail in no time and released into the public to do as he pleases. No big deal.

So now what?

I can't help thinking about my own daughter. She's 13 years old. She and her friends have rubby-dubbs making lewd comments towards them on the city bus. What does the bus driver say? "Now guys, stop it or I'm going to kick you off the bus." How about kicking those fuckers off of the bus right now? These are young women being treated as objects for Christ's sake! I'm afraid for my daughter but I try to teach her how to handle these situations because these people are not worth wasting one's breath over. It's probably a good thing I'm not around when things like this happen. I'd end up serving time in jail longer than a rapist.

I've had to report a physical assault. It was at my place of work about 13 years ago and when I called the labour board they told me that there wasn't a workplace harassment law in Alberta. That's interesting. I was told to call the police because pushing people into warehouse racking and pulling hair so hard my neck almost snapped off was not appropriate. No kidding. I filed a police report. The police interviewed everyone involved...even my witness. I got a call a few days later telling me that everyone likes to joke around at their place of work and the policeman basically told me to lighten up. Oh, okay. What was I thinking when I reported this? My heart still hurts thinking about this.

So now what?

I don't personally know the young lady who was assaulted a couple of days ago but I know that she if was brave enough to report it immediately, she's an awesome person in my books. I know she will carry on and lead a wonderful life. I don't know her but I have faith in her.

I'm Late, I'm Late for a Very Important Date!

Every time I am rushed, I think of the white rabbit from Alice in Wonderland. I'm pretty sure he's my alter ego. I think of him constantly as I'm running around, continuously glancing at my wrist watch. Oh Nivens McTwisp!..... and you thought you were forgotten.

I always have so much on my plate that I have to make time to have some fun. Tonight I'm hosting what some us have dubbed The Crappy Dinner Party. My friend, Janet, came across an article talking about how one woman enjoys having friends or family coming over for dinner without notice. The woman in said article, checks the fridge, the freezer and whatever she can pull together for a meal is totally fine with her guest. Now, our Crappy Dinner rules are not quite that clear, in fact everything gets a little fuzzy after an hour or two anyway, but we have established that the person hosting is not required to clean their house, dress up or do any special shopping. I really don't care if the host is in pajama pants and a stained tank top with no bra. The point is to get together, have a bite to eat, perhaps a few drinks and just have a nice time. If the guest so chooses, she may bring a dessert (nothing fancy) and perhaps a beverage she'd like to share. (May or may not be alcoholic). 

Between Scouting, quilting, reading, family, work, household stuff and whatever else I decided to throw in the ring the past couple of decades, I almost forgot to add friends. Everyone needs to add friendship and humour to their life! I'm terrible with staying in touch but I've come to learn that when somebody just stops in for a visit, I'm totally okay with it as long as they realize that they may not get a full four-course meal with all the fixin's but I will try my best to roll out a red carpet.

The last couple of years, I've been trying to "scrape my plate off" a little to make time for more important things. My daughter likes to have tea with me. Sometimes we talk, sometimes we don't say much and that's okay. My sons sometimes like to come by and talk about what's going on with themselves, ask advice or whatever. The guys sometimes say what they want to say and walk away and that's okay too because I realized that they knew I was there to say it to. (Their conversation skills are normally better than that though)

I enjoyed the years of carting children off to soccer and swimming but I'm glad our family slowed down because I knew I couldn't do it anymore. I didn't learn my lesson though....I started making myself busy again with other things. What's wrong with me?

I may have to do some plate-scraping. 

Orrrr....maybe we should call these so-called dinner parties Group Therapy Sessions. :)

A Free Ride to Vandalize

I have a memory from a very young age that has stuck with me all these years. I've got a few of these silly memories and certain events, dates or situations will pull these memories from their hiding places in my head. I'm talking about something that I saw back when I was...oh, about six years old. I wish I would have had a camera back then and taken a picture because the picture in my head is clear and I'm not sure if I can capture the scene with words.

This memory would have taken place back in the '70's. We lived a few miles out of the town of Winkler, MB and on Halloween night, sometime after the supper hour, (I remember it being dark anyway) my brother's 17 year-old girlfriend asked my dad for a ride into town. I tagged along. I'm thinking Dad assumed she wanted a ride home but as we pulled into town she asked him to pull over and drop her off on Main Street. When she got out of the vehicle, I looked out of the side window of the pick up and I couldn't believe my baby blues! There was a big crowd of people, mostly teenagers but there may have been some adults in the mix, trashing the street and everything on it. As a girl proceeded to turn over a sidewalk grate, she made eye contact with me. Garbage was strewn about, people were throwing eggs everywhere including at the store fronts, and many were tipping anything that stood upright....it was a huge mess and nobody was doing anything about it. It was a crazy sight.

My dad didn't say a word all the way back home. Either he had not wanted me to see that or he saw it for the first time too. I'm thinking a little bit of both. He never wanted to to talk about it and I got the "look" every time I brought it up. I think he was embarrassed for our little Mennonite town. The population of Winkler at that time may not have been much over five thousand and employed a very small police force. There was nothing anybody could do but ride it out until morning. How awful would that be in this day? It was a license to vandalize on that one night of the year.

My husband, who is only four years my senior, remembers sitting in the car with his dad, parked down the road from the chaos, and watching the scene unfold. I heard years later that this event took place every Halloween and it was a ritual. This activity would have petered out by the time I was of age to partake or I would have heard about it. Something like that was not my bag anyway...I did stupid things but that would not have been one of them.

This morning as I walked my dogs at five in the morning, I couldn't help but think about the scene I witnessed forty-one years ago. I walked past a chip bag wrapper left on somebody's lawn and saw a jack-o-lantern that had rolled off of a front step. Perhaps more damage was done here in Lethbridge last night but never to the extent Winkler's youth used to celebrate. I've never seen anything like it since except for on TV. Maybe my immature brain at the time thought it was crazier than it actually was but I have talked to others that remember how bizarre Halloween night was in our sleepy little prairie town so my memory couldn't be too far off.

Maybe other towns and cities did this kind of thing? .....I haven't actually researched this. Maybe I'm over reacting and it was just a cool thing to do, like smoking in public places.  I'd like to hear from others from this era and get the low-down.