Whatever He Says

 Yesterday our granddaughter Tori came to pick up a cheque that had arrived in our mailbox and stayed for a visit with her mom, Brenda and me. In the course of the conversation, we talked about customer satisfaction. However, I can’t recall how we got onto that topic, only that it reminded me of my satisfying conclusion of a slipper purchase almost a month earlier.  We were all sitting on the floor at the time to be less threatening to her shy dog, Kevin, so I pointed to my feet stretched out in front of me—and my new slippers with their moccasin-like uppers, cozily trimmed and lined with faux-fur. Tori appraised them approvingly, “They’re nice,” she said.  “I love them,” I said, “but the first pair I bought after spending forever choosing them and thinking they were perfect began to pinch after several hours of wearing them around the house. Thinking I’d get used to them, I kept them on despite the discomfort and even dropped something on them in the kitchen, which ...

We were young, that’s my excuse. I was 23 and Paul 26, but already we had done a lot of living in our time together--more than most youngsters of today would have done by then. We had been married for almost four years, had immigrated to a new country, over 6,000 km away from home and were parents to a 3 and 1-year-old. We owned our own house--or at least two mortgages on the house and had settled down, or so  I thought. Paul and I were barely scraping by, but we were making it on one salary, while I stayed home to care for our children. It is at such times; I have come to understand, now that I am much older, that we should prepare for an adventure, for one is surely coming.  Paul had a long drive to work, down a highway known for danger in the winter. He felt that we should explore moving closer to his place of work. I was happy in our home--had overcome two years of homesickness and loved our little village in the country. I was not in favour of the proposed mo...

Our son Pete usually calls to chat during his long commute to and from work in the city and it was during one of these conversations recently that I mentioned having the gift of mercy. He loves to tease me about what he describes as my "random mercy," and says that I'm always able to "ferret out" the good in people. A particularly flattering choice of metaphor, I thought .   He launched into his "axe murderer" routine, saying he imagines me saying, "Well, on the good side, he always cleans up after himself. And he keeps his tools nice and sharp." He muttered something about not many people wanting me on a parole board--getting carried away now--he was o n a roll--I was laughing so hard I could hardly catch my breath--the fuel to his fire. Pete may have been exaggerating for dramatic and comedic effect, but  when I told my granddaughter Tori about his teasing, she said, "Omie, remember that terrible dream I had a few ...

It was 2004 and I had gone back to England for two weeks to help my brother Robert move Mum from the two story home she was living in, to a perfect little ground floor flat in the same village. Robert and I had a lifetime of gathered belongings to sort through and condense into a much smaller space, while Mum, blissfully unconcerned with all of this, patiently waited for the move. I persuaded Robert that it might be a good idea, even though Mum's final quota of belongings was small, to get help in the form of a moving company. We settled on movers called Mike and Al .  Their advertisement in the phone book sounded so promising. "No job too large or too small," it boasted. From the moment I made contact with "Mike" though, something in his voice gave a different impression to the enthusiastic advertisement. In fact, I wasn't sure that he really wanted to do this job, although he didn't come right out and say so. When I pressed him for a quote, s...

It was a season of “lasts:” the last budget preparation at year-end; the last 1.1 with each of her direct reports; the last meeting of each of the many groups and committees of which she had been part for so many years--the last this—the last that. She had loved her job these many years, and she had wanted to finish well, had worked hard at leaving everything in perfect shape for her successor. She was dutiful, committed, loyal and hardworking, no one could say otherwise, but now, as she sat at her desk one morning when the finish line was in sight, suddenly she felt an unfamiliar stirring  within her, a sort of reckless abandonment that was as intriguing as it was terrifying. She glanced at the clock hanging above her desk and realized that she had completely lost track of time while working to finish a project before leaving for another of those “last” meetings.   With a gasped, “Oh my goodness!” she quickly reigned in her thoughts, shut her laptop with a bang, and gath...

I have discovered that the road to high drama or comedy often starts out as an innocuous trail of breadcrumbs. Such was the case recently, when in the middle of cleaning her kitchen cupboards my friend Susan texted me with the wry declaration that she was married to a condiments hoarder. “Dozens and dozens of packets of soy-sauce, ketchup, and sundry containers of salad dressing, vinegar, etc.,” she wrote. She thanked God for small mercies--at least Ron didn’t save the packets of salt and pepper, but she said that she could not suggest throwing any of the collection out. Ron had said defensively that the last time the kids were over, he had given them all little ketchup packs to put on their French fries.  “At that rate,” wrote Susan, “there’s no way we will be able to use them up before the end of the next decade! Then there are all the other little packets…And every time he gets takeout…there are MORE!” “Oh, dear,” I texted back, adding that I had used up my ...

Doesn't it drive you a little crazy when things just go missing? I wrote about the case of the missing salmon three years ago when Tippy and Tori were 13 and 14. Here is that little story, since they both just spent the weekend with us and are so much more grown up now! I was loading the dishwasher when Brenda wandered upstairs and into our kitchen with her brow furrowed and a perplexed expression on her face. She told me that she had just posted as her status on Facebook : "Ok its official--I have lost my mind--and my salmon! Made my lunch for tomorrow and could have sworn I put the leftovers in the fridge but the illusive salmon is missing in action! If I ever find it I'll let I you know where I put it!" I am used to hunting my kitchen and office for things that seem to vaporise the moment they leave my hand, but it was funny to see Brenda standing there in her pajamas telling me that she had actually looked inside her washing machine, dryer, oven and mi...

Our daughter-in-law Sue, and Paul, are kindred spirits in that they are both undeterred by things that others might deem impossible, and set out to do them by sheer force of will.  Sue was helping us get our house ready for listing by painting the outside of the extension at the back. T he day that she and Paul built the heavy rented scaffolding to the height needed to reach the peak at the edge of the roof of our house, and Sue had to stand on the scaffolding and reach up with her brush and roller was scary.  Even she admitted to nervousness and sat on the edge of the scaffolding, dangling her legs while looking down, like an Olympic diver psyching herself up on a diving board.  "Don't worry, I have four children," was the most encouraging thing she had to say. Paul had  tied down the scaffolding on either side,  bought her a harness, and attached a rope to the harness. He then tied the rope around his waist. I could only think of how we can't even stan...

We have house guests from England staying with us. Yesterday Chris and Eileen arrived, after a long journey from the Lake District via Glasgow. Their 26 year old daughter Nel arrived last week. A nursing student, she wanted to research what she could about nursing in Ontario and is visiting here and there and listening to whomever will talk! :) Eileen confided that she had to surrender a jar of Marmite at the airport, it was in her purse and spotted as it went through the scanner. At 150 gm. it was classified as a paste, 50 gm. over the 100 gm. limit. This is nothing to do with the  reported ban of Marmite and Irn-Bru in Canada! I wonder how many more jars of Marmite are piled up at the airport, seized from British travelers who only want their Marmite on toast for breakfast. An acquired taste, for sure, but once embedded, a necessity of life! :) Fortunately, it can be found in Canada, and I am in no doubt that the Ashton family will come home with some this afternoon. :) ...

This week, during some precious time off I have been taking care of some of the things that I have neglected for a while. I was probably supposed to be doing something on my To Do list when I got sidetracked by an on-line ad for the Organ Donor Registry. I went to the Service Canada website, followed the links and before long I was staring at a list of parts to potentially donate. I've always thought that carrying a permission slip in the depths of my purse was a rather tenuous means of communication; so deciding that there was no time like the present I decided to register officially which bits and pieces of me to pass on when I no longer need them.  Later that evening, Paul and I were having dinner in front of the TV, when I told him that I had registered and which parts I was donating. I could tell that I'd been more drastic than he felt comfortable with.  "So how are we going to have a funeral?" he said, and I could sense his discomfort with losing all of ...

We were sitting at the kitchen table, drinking our coffee one recent morning, me and my man. I was overcome with appreciation for who he is and I told him that one of the things I love about him is that he would do anything--and I mean, any-thing, for his family. So then I was curious. "What do you appreciate about me, specifically?" I asked. I mean, sometimes it is nice to know, isn't it? :) This seemed to be a hard question. I could tell the pressure was on. The clock was ticking, like on a quiz show with a time limit before the buzzer rings. I could see the furrowed brow and the figurative pencil being chewed. Beads of sweat were breaking out! Then, "Industrious!" Paul said triumphantly, "You are very industrious." Um, "Industrious?" I didn't feel like I hit the jackpot somehow with that quality. I mean, I'm sure that when he first fell for me,  it wasn't because he spotted "Industrious Girl." :) I have to a...

They bring me joy, these boys of mine: my son, Pete, and his two sons. A extra few hours of vacation tagged on to the Thanksgiving weekend, gave me time to surprise them at the hockey arena and hang out for both boys' hockey games, with brunch at the Golden Griddle in between. A friendly woman in a Robin's egg blue hijab, greeted us and showed us to our table, explaining our menu options and the cost for children and adults at the buffet. We settled in to enjoy our meal. William, the youngest boy was born curious; a scientific observer and thinker. Nothing escapes his attention. Over lunch, his dad and I were talking and one of us used the word "loophole." William looked up from the place mat he was colouring.  "What's a 'loophole?'" he wanted to know. I laughed at the challenge presented by the question and deferred to Pete's younger and more agile brain. He explained that a loophole is...

Little vanities? I have them! Not too many. And mine do double duty, being a source of innocent pleasure and laughter at the same time. Visitors to our house often pause at a photograph of Paul and I on our wedding day. Inevitably someone will look hard and say, "Has anyone told you, you look like Gwyneth Paltrow ?" And I laugh and say modestly, "A few." My friends have to forgive me taking my small pleasures where I find them. :) One of my few claims to fame is looking like Gwyneth, 44 years ago! On Friday last week, after a morning meeting, some of our work team went out for lunch together to celebrate the fact that it was almost the end of a week worked hard. It felt good to be almost at the weekend. Our server was lovely, attentive and pleasant. Someone commented that she was one of those people you just like, with an extra pleasant, friendly personality. As she took my order, she commented on the beauty of the day and her love of the fal...

On Tuesday when I came home from work,  Paul said, "Belinda, did you drop off the movies at the video store? The video store says that we haven't brought back  The Iceman ." I'd started the week on Monday with Paul calling out as I left the house for work, "Could you take  a movie  back  to the video store on the way?" "Sure," I said, I had a few spare minutes. And I also grabbed the items waiting on the bottom shelf of the hall table, to be returned to the library.  I'd dropped everything off at their respective destinations. I remembered checking inside the DVD cases to check that the  Rizoli and Isles  episodes we'd enjoyed over the weekend, were there, before dropping them into the chute in the outside wall of the library. This wasn't my fault, I was pretty sure, I knew I'd dropped everything off. "Maybe they lost it, " I said to Paul.  Paul hunted high and low in the den, just in case it was still there,...

I have a running list of things that hang like pegs on a washing line in my brain: Things to be done. Last week one of these was looming. Our pastor had been busy organizing a "ministry expo," to be held after church on Sunday. All the ministries in the church would have a booth set up to communicate their vision and purpose to church members and have sign up sheets, hopefully to recruit newly interested people who previously had no idea that such a wonderful opportunity existed. I needed to complete a description of the cell group that meets in our home each Thursday, and use picture frames to display the details. I'd been wracking my brains thinking how to describe "us," then I had the idea of asking the people who come, how they would describe our group. They brainstormed a number of adjectives and I wished that I had written them all down, they were so good. The basic picture that emerged was of a group that was welcoming, about "family," an...

Aha, I thought that title would get your attention.  We're in our 44th year of married life, so I thought I would share a glimpse of what it is like at our age.  A warning: You may be disappointed; but not if you are looking for humour. Last night Paul was looking for sympathy from the friends in our living room because I, "move things around all the time."  Just for clarification--he's not talking about the furniture; moving the jam in the fridge, counts. :)  So this morning we had a quick breakfast together. We were running a little late. He commented on the coffee particularly; how nice it was; nice and strong, just how he likes it.  We finished breakfast and got ready to leave. "Do you want me to pour your second cup into a travel mug?" I asked. "That would be wonderful," he said. I filled a silver mug and called out, "It's on the hall table!" His last words were a grateful, "Thanks love," as I gathered...

By Belinda Oh my, I am still looking for that foggy story from the past. I haven't found it yet, and if I don't tomorrow, I will rewrite it from my journal, but I found this funny story from last year to share. It was called "Guilty Parties," and you will soon find out why. :) I was loading the dishwasher when Brenda wandered into the kitchen with a perplexed expression on her face and furrowed brow. She had just lost something precious, her last piece of salmon. In fact she had posted her status to the world on Facebook  as this: "Ok it's official ... I have lost my mind and my salmon! Made my lunch for tomorrow and could have sworn I put the leftovers in the fridge but the allusive salmon is still MIA! If I ever find it I'll let I you know where I put it!" And now she was coming to commiserate with me. I obliged. After all, I am used to the fact that I can put something down and it vanishes from view in that very split second! How does that ha...

By Belinda It's officially a family affliction, this sentimental attachment to photos! I have had so many creative suggestions in the comment section on how to "have my cake and eat it too," i.e. a clutterless house, and yet have a way to display photos of the people in my life. My Dutch cousin Deb, who lives in Alicante, Spain; wrote that she solved her need to have photos of her dear ones on display, by using a clear plastic curtain with pockets into which she slotted her photos (that's a photo she sent me above.) She explained: "It is like a curtain with holes in it on top and probably to put cd's in but for me it was the photo curtain I had in the entrance-hall in the former flat......I have to find a new place for it here." Cindy, a blog friend, suggested putting the fridge photos into an album which would be on top of the fridge for people to browse through. This was getting warm, but still dangerously like clutter to me in my zeal to ...

By Belinda There are times in life to think through potential transitions and Paul and I did some of that recently.  Brenda, Kevin and the girls will be moving out this summer as both girls will be in high school in another town, so we thought for a while about selling our beloved home of 25 years and moving ourselves. Our daughter-in-law Sue, who with Pete and their four children, recently went through the major life disruption of a move herself and is therefore a bit of an expert on selling a house; told us that clutter; i.e. anything that makes a home a home; has to go. Oh, yes, and family photos too; anything that is personal, the theory being that potential buyers should be able to imagine their family in your home without being distracted by evidence of the family who still lives there. We thought and prayed a lot, and weighed the pros and cons. In the end we decided to stay here, and once we made that decision our hearts heaved a sigh of relief and we felt at peace. ...