It's beginning to look a lot like Advent. Our church is filled with beautiful blue banners and frontal cloths and the priest's blue satin vestments. One addition this year is the Advent chapel at the front of the chancel, just under the cross--lots of candles on blue satin, sparkly, cloth covers. That is where Father Nick has Compline every Wednesday evening at 6:30. Frank and I went the first time, but missed the second one due to snow. (He has a very justified fear of slipping and falling on icy sidewalks.) Next Wednesday I will go alone because our Church Council follows immediately after Compline and goes for an hour or more. Frank would have to find somewhere to sit for an hour, waiting for me. So, again he'll have to stay home. :(
This year we actually got our Christmas cards written and mailed off in good time, I think. Our grandson came over and put up lights around our patio and Frank added lights inside our kitchen window. The Advent candles are on the coffee table, surrounded by Christmas cards we've received so far. And in a day or two, we'll pull out the little artificial tree and set it up in front of the gas fireplace that we never use. Our daughter told us how to get Christmas music of the classical type from Google Home. Just ask Google for Mid-Winter's Eve Music, and there you go.
We'll go to church on Christmas Day. Spend other days around the Holy Day with family and friends who are nearby. Then we'll start to get ready for our real celebration: Epiphany when we'll chalk the door again, and play games and eat and remember to choose gifts for the poor using a catalogue from World Vision. It's a Monday this year, but we'll celebrate at home with family on Sunday, January 5th. We'll miss the church service that day, but it's that or see family members we see so seldom. God understands.
Monday, December 16, 2019
ending 2019
Ended November with a Women's retreat. Almost every year the women of St. Saviour's Anglican Church in Penticton, BC, have a retreat. This year, it was at Seton House of Prayer, near Kelowna. Nearer to home than our previous few retreats at Sorrento at Salmon Arm.
This year, instead of two people taking on the task all by themselves, they invited a few of us to help out. I was privileged to be assigned from 10am to 10:45 and 11am to noon, for a program of my own design. I chose the theme of colours (the others confirmed that and added Light, so the weekend was "Colours and Light". I claim to have squished a Curisllo weekend into an hour and 45 minutes. Actually, we had a short get-acquainted game followed by Bible study based on colours mentioned in the Bible. We sang De Colores. Then after coffee break, we made "Palanca" bags for our fellow retreatants. Little bags of "love notes" to be taken home at the end of the retreat. In the afternoon, another member of the team taught us how to make candles with coloured wax, thereby completing the theme of colours and light.
Our retreat ended back in Penticton at our church with the celebration of Christ the King, which we claim as our patronal festival, given that there is no saint called St. Saviour. At the church the following week, we sang Las Mananitas to our priest, Nicholas Pang, for his name day, St. Nicholas Day, December 6th.
Thus ended the Church Year. The first Sunday of Advent which falls on December 1st this year, is the Church's New Year. Not January 1st. So, Happy New Year!
This year, instead of two people taking on the task all by themselves, they invited a few of us to help out. I was privileged to be assigned from 10am to 10:45 and 11am to noon, for a program of my own design. I chose the theme of colours (the others confirmed that and added Light, so the weekend was "Colours and Light". I claim to have squished a Curisllo weekend into an hour and 45 minutes. Actually, we had a short get-acquainted game followed by Bible study based on colours mentioned in the Bible. We sang De Colores. Then after coffee break, we made "Palanca" bags for our fellow retreatants. Little bags of "love notes" to be taken home at the end of the retreat. In the afternoon, another member of the team taught us how to make candles with coloured wax, thereby completing the theme of colours and light.
Our retreat ended back in Penticton at our church with the celebration of Christ the King, which we claim as our patronal festival, given that there is no saint called St. Saviour. At the church the following week, we sang Las Mananitas to our priest, Nicholas Pang, for his name day, St. Nicholas Day, December 6th.
Thus ended the Church Year. The first Sunday of Advent which falls on December 1st this year, is the Church's New Year. Not January 1st. So, Happy New Year!
Friday, November 1, 2019
Surrey International Writers' Conference 2019
Always worth the trip. Not easy to get to, in more ways than one.
First, there's the trick to get in the registration window and actually succeed in getting a spot. Get the full three-day package that includes 3 lunches and 2 dinners--most with speakers well-worth hearing.
Next, for me, there's the transportation. Greyhound, my old stand-by, deserted all of western Canada about a year ago, and so since I don't drive, the only way to the Lower Mainland from the Okanagan Valley of British Columbia is to fly. Book early, because flights to Vancouver sell out fast. Not to mention getting a hotel reservation. Sheraton Guildford, where the conference is held, is sold out fast, too. Better chance getting in the Sandman Suites Guildford, around the corner from the Sheraton, but about $7 per taxi ride.
Then there's the nightmare of finding help for my elderly and disabled husband. (See another post for that rant.)
But, as I said, the conference is work the trip. Highlights for me (aside from having the opportunity to reconnect with my pal Christine David) were the workshops:
In no special order, I attended two workshops by Hallie Ephron. The first was about "wounds and burdens" and the second was "suspense." I love the fact that she has excellent handouts I can put my notes on. I also attended a workshop by the famous mystery writer, Anne Perry. (Hallie is also a famous mystery writer.) Anne's workshops are another feature of the conference that I wouldn't miss for the world. I actually got to sit next to Anne one evening at dinner and we had a nice chat. Another dinner, I sat next to Diana Gabaldon, of Outlander fame, and showed her some notes I'd found just before I left home: they were notes from a workshop of hers that I'd attended in 1994. Christine, also at the table with Diana and me, had also been at that same workshop. We've been at this a very long time!
Other workshops were by Carleigh Baker, Cathy Ace, Nicole Blades, Elizabeth Boyle, Eileen Cook (author of two of my favourite young adult novels: With Malice and You Owe Me a Murder), CC (Chris) Humphreys, Mary Robinette Kowal, Owen Laukkanen, Donald Maass (New York Agent! always at SiWC). And some others in workshops, some of them solo presenters and others were on panels.
Sat "with" Dana Murphy at lunch where she was supposed to be the "hostess" and was, along with everyone at the table except two talkative women, totally ignored by her. Too big for her baby booties, if you ask me.
First, there's the trick to get in the registration window and actually succeed in getting a spot. Get the full three-day package that includes 3 lunches and 2 dinners--most with speakers well-worth hearing.
Next, for me, there's the transportation. Greyhound, my old stand-by, deserted all of western Canada about a year ago, and so since I don't drive, the only way to the Lower Mainland from the Okanagan Valley of British Columbia is to fly. Book early, because flights to Vancouver sell out fast. Not to mention getting a hotel reservation. Sheraton Guildford, where the conference is held, is sold out fast, too. Better chance getting in the Sandman Suites Guildford, around the corner from the Sheraton, but about $7 per taxi ride.
Then there's the nightmare of finding help for my elderly and disabled husband. (See another post for that rant.)
But, as I said, the conference is work the trip. Highlights for me (aside from having the opportunity to reconnect with my pal Christine David) were the workshops:
In no special order, I attended two workshops by Hallie Ephron. The first was about "wounds and burdens" and the second was "suspense." I love the fact that she has excellent handouts I can put my notes on. I also attended a workshop by the famous mystery writer, Anne Perry. (Hallie is also a famous mystery writer.) Anne's workshops are another feature of the conference that I wouldn't miss for the world. I actually got to sit next to Anne one evening at dinner and we had a nice chat. Another dinner, I sat next to Diana Gabaldon, of Outlander fame, and showed her some notes I'd found just before I left home: they were notes from a workshop of hers that I'd attended in 1994. Christine, also at the table with Diana and me, had also been at that same workshop. We've been at this a very long time!
Other workshops were by Carleigh Baker, Cathy Ace, Nicole Blades, Elizabeth Boyle, Eileen Cook (author of two of my favourite young adult novels: With Malice and You Owe Me a Murder), CC (Chris) Humphreys, Mary Robinette Kowal, Owen Laukkanen, Donald Maass (New York Agent! always at SiWC). And some others in workshops, some of them solo presenters and others were on panels.
Sat "with" Dana Murphy at lunch where she was supposed to be the "hostess" and was, along with everyone at the table except two talkative women, totally ignored by her. Too big for her baby booties, if you ask me.
What happened to October 2019?
It came and it went. Even my autobiography got shoved aside. Monday, September 30th, I started teaching a new ESL student, referred to me by my previous ESL student. Luz comes twice a week, Wednesdays 10 to 11, and Fridays 4 to 5. Today, somehow, she didn't show up. Could have been because of the changes from October 24th to 31st. I had to cancel the Friday and Wednesday of that week. More about that in a few minutes. So, the ESL tutorials account for a "loss" of two hours a week writing time.
Much of my time was taken with preparing to go to the Surrey International Writers' Conference, October 24th to 27th. Not the writing I'd hoped to take with me, or to prepare to do there, just preparing to leave my husband alone for seven days. I wanted to have some "me-time" after the conference, stay with friends until the end of the month. Not doing that again. I was leaving on Thursday, October 24th and coming back on October 31st, flying home on my broomstick.
But first I had to arrange for someone to check in on my 86-year-old crippled husband once a day, help him get his shoes on if he wanted to go out, make sure he had his medicines, and at least make a sandwich for him for his lunch. Interior Health (the regional health service for this part of the province of British Columbia) assured me that a visiting nurse would come every morning between 9am and 11am. They pledged to do "dress assist" and "medicine assist" and "meal assist". We would pay $31 (and change) per hour or $72 per day whichever was less. I'm just waiting to see what the bill will say when it comes. Because: over 7 days, 6 "nurses" came (one came twice) but none of them were nurses. They were "care support workers". So--Frank attempted to be up every morning with at least most of his clothes on. Not once did any of these "workers" offer to put on his shoes. When he asked them to give him his morning pills, one of them (the one who came twice) didn't know how to open a blister pack, and when she checked with her supervisor, she was told not to give him any of his medicines. The second time she came, she had mastered the mysteries of the blister pack but would not set the Victoza pen to the correct dosage. Frank managed to get her to let him know when he had clicked to the correct dosage, so that was okay. (He's legally blind, so he can't see the numbers on the pen.) All six women objected to giving him Tylenol-for-arthritis. Only one actually did give it to him because she reasoned that it was an over-the-counter medicine. But he had to promise not to tell on her as she wasn't supposed to. Because she wasn't a nurse. WE WERE SUPPOSED TO HAVE NURSES. He's also supposed to have hydromorphone, but there was no use asking for that. As a result, he spent the week in pain because we didn't have nurses. Meal assist? One woman made him a peanut butter sandwich, but that was while I was still there and I told her to. One peanut butter sandwich was supposed to last him for seven days? Too much to ask that he be given one peanut butter sandwich every day for seven days? There were also half a dozen dinners from "meals on wheels" that the surveillance nurse said could be heated up for him. I still have all those dinners in the freezer in exactly the same spots that the MOW volunteer put them the day after I left. So, $31 an hour? Not one of these women stayed even 15 minutes, let alone the hour we were promised. What do you bet they try to charge us $31 X 7 days of "service"? Seven hours of nothing. But they're the government. However, when I mentioned to someone that I planned to write a letter of complaint, my friend suggested I send the letter to the newspaper. I think I will. As soon as I get that bill.
He did cope pretty well. Our son, Steve, came over several times, and helped him. They had meals at restaurants. They even went shopping and Frank cooked a big pack of sausages and had sausage sandwiches every day for supper. One night he added fried eggs. When I got home I was amazed that he hadn't created a bigger mess than the one that greeted me on my arrival. Next time I leave him alone, he's going into a respite centre whether he wants to or not.
Much of my time was taken with preparing to go to the Surrey International Writers' Conference, October 24th to 27th. Not the writing I'd hoped to take with me, or to prepare to do there, just preparing to leave my husband alone for seven days. I wanted to have some "me-time" after the conference, stay with friends until the end of the month. Not doing that again. I was leaving on Thursday, October 24th and coming back on October 31st, flying home on my broomstick.
But first I had to arrange for someone to check in on my 86-year-old crippled husband once a day, help him get his shoes on if he wanted to go out, make sure he had his medicines, and at least make a sandwich for him for his lunch. Interior Health (the regional health service for this part of the province of British Columbia) assured me that a visiting nurse would come every morning between 9am and 11am. They pledged to do "dress assist" and "medicine assist" and "meal assist". We would pay $31 (and change) per hour or $72 per day whichever was less. I'm just waiting to see what the bill will say when it comes. Because: over 7 days, 6 "nurses" came (one came twice) but none of them were nurses. They were "care support workers". So--Frank attempted to be up every morning with at least most of his clothes on. Not once did any of these "workers" offer to put on his shoes. When he asked them to give him his morning pills, one of them (the one who came twice) didn't know how to open a blister pack, and when she checked with her supervisor, she was told not to give him any of his medicines. The second time she came, she had mastered the mysteries of the blister pack but would not set the Victoza pen to the correct dosage. Frank managed to get her to let him know when he had clicked to the correct dosage, so that was okay. (He's legally blind, so he can't see the numbers on the pen.) All six women objected to giving him Tylenol-for-arthritis. Only one actually did give it to him because she reasoned that it was an over-the-counter medicine. But he had to promise not to tell on her as she wasn't supposed to. Because she wasn't a nurse. WE WERE SUPPOSED TO HAVE NURSES. He's also supposed to have hydromorphone, but there was no use asking for that. As a result, he spent the week in pain because we didn't have nurses. Meal assist? One woman made him a peanut butter sandwich, but that was while I was still there and I told her to. One peanut butter sandwich was supposed to last him for seven days? Too much to ask that he be given one peanut butter sandwich every day for seven days? There were also half a dozen dinners from "meals on wheels" that the surveillance nurse said could be heated up for him. I still have all those dinners in the freezer in exactly the same spots that the MOW volunteer put them the day after I left. So, $31 an hour? Not one of these women stayed even 15 minutes, let alone the hour we were promised. What do you bet they try to charge us $31 X 7 days of "service"? Seven hours of nothing. But they're the government. However, when I mentioned to someone that I planned to write a letter of complaint, my friend suggested I send the letter to the newspaper. I think I will. As soon as I get that bill.
He did cope pretty well. Our son, Steve, came over several times, and helped him. They had meals at restaurants. They even went shopping and Frank cooked a big pack of sausages and had sausage sandwiches every day for supper. One night he added fried eggs. When I got home I was amazed that he hadn't created a bigger mess than the one that greeted me on my arrival. Next time I leave him alone, he's going into a respite centre whether he wants to or not.
Monday, September 9, 2019
clutter
I don't have a cluttered desk at Cowork, because I have to clear it off every evening when I leave--nothing on the desk, nothing on the shelf above the desk (except for the official notice that it is reserved for me on Mondays and Fridays), and nothing in the three drawers that I used to have full to over-flowing when I rented this desk "permanently." I have a small suitcase that I use to bring to Cowork anything that I need to use at the hot desk.
At home I have a small desk in my bedroom. It's handy for me to use when I make a phone call or need to make a quick note to myself. Too small to allow it to get cluttered. It's a roll-top desk, borrowed from my son Steve, and it has a shelf-like top above the roller. I have pictures made by my son Ken, and a box of his with his brother's pumice stone inside. I keep the pumice stone because there's some dried blood on it, from Frank's forehead when he rubbed a wart he should have left alone. I also have some pictures of St. Francis of Assisi, a couple of crosses, a small statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary, and some printed out prayers. I guess it's a shrine of sorts, devoted to the memory of my eldest son Frank (1957-2005) and my second son Ken (1959-2012), both victims of the demon Cancer. I don't consider this shelf to be cluttered.
My bedroom itself is cluttered with boxes and bags of things that have yet to be sorted since we moved to Penticton in April 2016. I'm working on it. I've made more progress than you might imagine, given that I still haven't finished in three years. Everything that didn't have an obvious place to reside, got put in my bedroom. Now, most of it is getting tossed in the garbage anyway. I just have to look at it first, and decide.
It's my head that's cluttered. I come to Cowork to write. Sometimes, I print out documents sent to me by the church where I serve on the Church Council, or documents from various doctors that I have to read to my husband and are illegible on my little iPhone. But mostly, I want to write here. I've been working very hard on my autobiography, If Anyone Should Ask, now on Decade 7 of my life. Finish this decade and Decade 8 and I'm done. It's rough. Not much editing. But it's not for publication. If you aren't a member of my family, there's no chance you'll get to see it. I mentioned it at the writing critique group I belong to, and the "leader" said she "had concerns about it." No she doesn't. It's absolutely none of her "concern" at all. She was "concerned" about my using anecdotes. She writes non-fiction books about submarines, so I guess she doesn't have any anecdotes. It was her husband's profession, and her knowledge is second-hand at best. So, autobiography aside, what else do I write here?
Today, I've taken refuge in this blog. I'm writing about writing, or not writing. Being at this desk only twice a week, I feel a bit nervous when I'm not making good use of the time. Blogging is good, but creative writing is better. At home, I've been reading about short stories, and reading short stories from all different sources--classics like Guy de Maupassant and Hemingway, for example, and contest winners from 2019 Short Story Contest at the CBC. I think I could write short stories long-hand in notebooks at home, between Cowork session. Maybe submit something for the 2020 contest. Sounds like a good plan. So far, no progress.
So what should I be doing at my hot desk at Cowork? Besides my autobiography and blog? It's the novels that are cluttering my mind: First there's the trilogy that was sabotaged when my thumb-drive went crazy and turned the whole thing into a mess of upside-down question marks, and I lost my first book, House of Secrets. And about half of the second book, Baby's Breath. And notes for the third book of the trilogy, Flowers and Flames. I'm sure I have most of the above printed out, but I haven't the courage to look.
Then there's the book I started when I was taking Creative Writing courses at UBC. I guess I started it long before that, but it was in one of these courses that I got pushed to go outside of my comfort zone--try a fantasy. Really? I always say I don't like fantasy, but that's not true. I loved Lord of the Rings, The Narnia Chronicles and Harry Potter. Fantasies, all of them. So, I drew a deep breath and re-started my story which doesn't have a title yet. It's a historical ghost story. Historical because the main part of the story is circa 1950, in London, England. Then the protagonists (two girls) meet a couple of ghosts and, in the Bloody Tower of the Tower of London, they meet the ghosts of the two princes allegedly murdered by their favourite uncle. But the boys don't believe it was their uncle, and command the girls to travel back in time to their murder and find out whodunit. (They were smothered in their sleep, so they didn't see it coming.) I'm having a ball researching and scribbling. I can't find the scenes I've actually written, but that book might get done before the trilogy! Maybe!
At home I have a small desk in my bedroom. It's handy for me to use when I make a phone call or need to make a quick note to myself. Too small to allow it to get cluttered. It's a roll-top desk, borrowed from my son Steve, and it has a shelf-like top above the roller. I have pictures made by my son Ken, and a box of his with his brother's pumice stone inside. I keep the pumice stone because there's some dried blood on it, from Frank's forehead when he rubbed a wart he should have left alone. I also have some pictures of St. Francis of Assisi, a couple of crosses, a small statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary, and some printed out prayers. I guess it's a shrine of sorts, devoted to the memory of my eldest son Frank (1957-2005) and my second son Ken (1959-2012), both victims of the demon Cancer. I don't consider this shelf to be cluttered.
My bedroom itself is cluttered with boxes and bags of things that have yet to be sorted since we moved to Penticton in April 2016. I'm working on it. I've made more progress than you might imagine, given that I still haven't finished in three years. Everything that didn't have an obvious place to reside, got put in my bedroom. Now, most of it is getting tossed in the garbage anyway. I just have to look at it first, and decide.
It's my head that's cluttered. I come to Cowork to write. Sometimes, I print out documents sent to me by the church where I serve on the Church Council, or documents from various doctors that I have to read to my husband and are illegible on my little iPhone. But mostly, I want to write here. I've been working very hard on my autobiography, If Anyone Should Ask, now on Decade 7 of my life. Finish this decade and Decade 8 and I'm done. It's rough. Not much editing. But it's not for publication. If you aren't a member of my family, there's no chance you'll get to see it. I mentioned it at the writing critique group I belong to, and the "leader" said she "had concerns about it." No she doesn't. It's absolutely none of her "concern" at all. She was "concerned" about my using anecdotes. She writes non-fiction books about submarines, so I guess she doesn't have any anecdotes. It was her husband's profession, and her knowledge is second-hand at best. So, autobiography aside, what else do I write here?
Today, I've taken refuge in this blog. I'm writing about writing, or not writing. Being at this desk only twice a week, I feel a bit nervous when I'm not making good use of the time. Blogging is good, but creative writing is better. At home, I've been reading about short stories, and reading short stories from all different sources--classics like Guy de Maupassant and Hemingway, for example, and contest winners from 2019 Short Story Contest at the CBC. I think I could write short stories long-hand in notebooks at home, between Cowork session. Maybe submit something for the 2020 contest. Sounds like a good plan. So far, no progress.
So what should I be doing at my hot desk at Cowork? Besides my autobiography and blog? It's the novels that are cluttering my mind: First there's the trilogy that was sabotaged when my thumb-drive went crazy and turned the whole thing into a mess of upside-down question marks, and I lost my first book, House of Secrets. And about half of the second book, Baby's Breath. And notes for the third book of the trilogy, Flowers and Flames. I'm sure I have most of the above printed out, but I haven't the courage to look.
Then there's the book I started when I was taking Creative Writing courses at UBC. I guess I started it long before that, but it was in one of these courses that I got pushed to go outside of my comfort zone--try a fantasy. Really? I always say I don't like fantasy, but that's not true. I loved Lord of the Rings, The Narnia Chronicles and Harry Potter. Fantasies, all of them. So, I drew a deep breath and re-started my story which doesn't have a title yet. It's a historical ghost story. Historical because the main part of the story is circa 1950, in London, England. Then the protagonists (two girls) meet a couple of ghosts and, in the Bloody Tower of the Tower of London, they meet the ghosts of the two princes allegedly murdered by their favourite uncle. But the boys don't believe it was their uncle, and command the girls to travel back in time to their murder and find out whodunit. (They were smothered in their sleep, so they didn't see it coming.) I'm having a ball researching and scribbling. I can't find the scenes I've actually written, but that book might get done before the trilogy! Maybe!
Friday, September 6, 2019
Reading 1
The drafts of the two attempts to write this post somehow turned up on my list. They weren't there last time I looked, but I've now posted one of them--my second attempt. That's why this one is titled "Reading 1."
I'm sure I didn't leave any labels on the one I published. I was just in a hurry to get it up before it vanished again. Did I call it "Reading 2"? I intended to.
I'm sure I didn't leave any labels on the one I published. I was just in a hurry to get it up before it vanished again. Did I call it "Reading 2"? I intended to.
Reading
Over the past three years, 2016-2019, the length of time Frank and I have been living in Penticton, we've read about twenty or thirty books. I say "we" because I've been reading to him almost every evening since he lost his sight on November 25, 2014 (Giant Cell Arteritis).
Unfortunately, I haven't kept track of which books we've read or when we actually read them. Most of them I've given away, but one or two are harder to part with. I did mention in an earlier blog about a book I actually tossed in the garbage. I expected to enjoy it because it was a murder mystery, and my favourite books usually kill someone off early on and spend the rest of the chapters helping me work out the puzzle. The one I tossed out might have done that, but I couldn't stand reading aloud the terrible "Appalachian" dialect. Otherwise known as just plain ignorance, in my not so humble opinion.
Right now, we're reading The Da Vinci Code, by Dan Brown. Before that, we read two books by Captain Marryat, The Children of the New Forest and The Settlers in Canada. Earlier this summer, we read Michelle Obama's Becoming, and thoroughly enjoyed that. When we first came to Penticton, the reading plan was to read everything Sue Grafton ever wrote. We did that, and then we both wept when her daughter announced that "the alphabet ends with Y." Sue Grafton died before she could write "Z" to her alphabet mystery series. Other books we've read since coming to the Okanagan Valley, include some kids' books about World War I, all of Stuart MacLean's books, Swiss Family Robinson (which Captain Marryat didn't like because the author, Johann David Wyss, romanticized the ship wreck and had animals that wouldn't have been found at the location where the family was supposed to be. Marryat wrote his own version, and maybe one day we'll read that one). We've also read a book on opera librettos, I don't remember who wrote that. One of the books I enjoyed most was A Short History of Nearly Everything by Bill Bryson, one of my favourite authors.
In this list of favourite books I'm not including The Holy Bible. We've been reading that together since long before Frank lost his sight. We used to take turns reading it--he'd read a chapter from one version, maybe The New Revised Standard, for example. And the next night, I'd read a chapter from a different version, probably The Catholic Study Bible. I liked to use that one because we could remember when to go to the Apocrypha for the books that are left out of the Protestant canon. We started this tradition somewhere around 1998, if not earlier, and have continued to this day. We usually read one chapter a night, so the Protestant Bible takes three years. (Read 3 chapters a night to complete the whole Bible in one year.) Once during this time, we took some months out to read the Koran aloud to each other, using two different translations. I recommend it, no matter what your views are on Islam. It's only fair to know what you're talking about. So, I think that we've read the Bible from cover to cover six times. The odd thing is that we often find that we could swear we'd never heard some of it before when we know for a fact we've read it repeatedly.
I'm going to stop here, before this post goes missing for the second time. I'd like to give links for the versions on the Bible that I've listed, but I'll leave that for you to Google. This site is too unreliable.
Unfortunately, I haven't kept track of which books we've read or when we actually read them. Most of them I've given away, but one or two are harder to part with. I did mention in an earlier blog about a book I actually tossed in the garbage. I expected to enjoy it because it was a murder mystery, and my favourite books usually kill someone off early on and spend the rest of the chapters helping me work out the puzzle. The one I tossed out might have done that, but I couldn't stand reading aloud the terrible "Appalachian" dialect. Otherwise known as just plain ignorance, in my not so humble opinion.
Right now, we're reading The Da Vinci Code, by Dan Brown. Before that, we read two books by Captain Marryat, The Children of the New Forest and The Settlers in Canada. Earlier this summer, we read Michelle Obama's Becoming, and thoroughly enjoyed that. When we first came to Penticton, the reading plan was to read everything Sue Grafton ever wrote. We did that, and then we both wept when her daughter announced that "the alphabet ends with Y." Sue Grafton died before she could write "Z" to her alphabet mystery series. Other books we've read since coming to the Okanagan Valley, include some kids' books about World War I, all of Stuart MacLean's books, Swiss Family Robinson (which Captain Marryat didn't like because the author, Johann David Wyss, romanticized the ship wreck and had animals that wouldn't have been found at the location where the family was supposed to be. Marryat wrote his own version, and maybe one day we'll read that one). We've also read a book on opera librettos, I don't remember who wrote that. One of the books I enjoyed most was A Short History of Nearly Everything by Bill Bryson, one of my favourite authors.
In this list of favourite books I'm not including The Holy Bible. We've been reading that together since long before Frank lost his sight. We used to take turns reading it--he'd read a chapter from one version, maybe The New Revised Standard, for example. And the next night, I'd read a chapter from a different version, probably The Catholic Study Bible. I liked to use that one because we could remember when to go to the Apocrypha for the books that are left out of the Protestant canon. We started this tradition somewhere around 1998, if not earlier, and have continued to this day. We usually read one chapter a night, so the Protestant Bible takes three years. (Read 3 chapters a night to complete the whole Bible in one year.) Once during this time, we took some months out to read the Koran aloud to each other, using two different translations. I recommend it, no matter what your views are on Islam. It's only fair to know what you're talking about. So, I think that we've read the Bible from cover to cover six times. The odd thing is that we often find that we could swear we'd never heard some of it before when we know for a fact we've read it repeatedly.
I'm going to stop here, before this post goes missing for the second time. I'd like to give links for the versions on the Bible that I've listed, but I'll leave that for you to Google. This site is too unreliable.
Lost posts: Reading????
This is very discouraging! I've been trying to list books that I've read over the past few years, and twice now the post has vanished before I was able to finish. To make matters worse, each time I've been careful about how to go about inserting links. At least half a dozen links. Obviously, my posts are too long. Grrrrr! Well, not this one!
first week of September
This time of year I get very nostalgic. I loved the first few weeks of school--new books, new notebooks, new friends. And from there on, it usually just got better. Oh yes, I had my share of grumpy teachers and mean classmates, but they were in the minority. Some courses I really disliked (math and science, usually) and some I enjoyed even if I didn't excel (history and geography). I generally did well in English, but that's to be expected of someone who is (or wants to be) a writer. And languages! I love languages. All languages. One of my favourite anecdotes I like to tell people--sometimes repeating it to the same people--so I apologize if you've heard it before, is about when I took German in high school.
It was right after the Christmas holidays, and my German teacher, Herr von Wittgenstein, met me in the hall.
"Diane!" he called out. "I would like to shake your hand." I stopped and stared. He was speaking to me?
"Yes?" I said. We shook hands.
He continued, "I have been teaching German in this school for twenty years. You are the first student to take my course, write my exam, and get 100% wrong."
I quit German that day, and switched to Latin. Much easier!
School days! How I miss them!
It was right after the Christmas holidays, and my German teacher, Herr von Wittgenstein, met me in the hall.
"Diane!" he called out. "I would like to shake your hand." I stopped and stared. He was speaking to me?
"Yes?" I said. We shook hands.
He continued, "I have been teaching German in this school for twenty years. You are the first student to take my course, write my exam, and get 100% wrong."
I quit German that day, and switched to Latin. Much easier!
School days! How I miss them!
Monday, August 19, 2019
writing and hot-desking
Writing. What's that? I mean the writing of novels and things. I'd be delighted to come up with a short story, or even an article. A poem? Well, I have been working on that autobiography, If Anyone Should Ask. In fact, I'm into Decade 6. I still can't face that novel that got fried in its thumb drive. Haven't looked at it in months. That really hurt! However, maybe I can get the autobiography finished and edited and printed and distributed--hopefully by the end of the year. Hope!
Hot desking works well for me. I have a routine now, sort of. I've reserved the desk I used to have for Mondays and Fridays. I still don't come in early enough. But I do what I can while I'm here, and that's a lot more than I'd get done if I stayed home or tried the library/coffee shop routine some writers do. That would never work for me. I have to have a place I'm paying for and that I can use for the purpose of writing alone. If I want to go to Blenz for a coffee, or to Tugs for lunch, I can leave my work on the desk and go out for an hour. Or I can bring something to eat at my desk. No one bothers me. But there are people here if I feel the need for company--that rarely happens.
Hot desking works well for me. I have a routine now, sort of. I've reserved the desk I used to have for Mondays and Fridays. I still don't come in early enough. But I do what I can while I'm here, and that's a lot more than I'd get done if I stayed home or tried the library/coffee shop routine some writers do. That would never work for me. I have to have a place I'm paying for and that I can use for the purpose of writing alone. If I want to go to Blenz for a coffee, or to Tugs for lunch, I can leave my work on the desk and go out for an hour. Or I can bring something to eat at my desk. No one bothers me. But there are people here if I feel the need for company--that rarely happens.
what happened to July and August?
Seriously! Is it true that I haven't posted anything since June 2019? I can't believe it! But I guess computers don't lie. Much.
So here we are at August 19, 2019. This month has been very busy. Two of the most auspicious days are now behind us now. Saturday was the wedding day for my grandson Dustin and his beautiful bride, Nicole. I was delighted to count no fewer than 17 people there who are blood relatives of mine! My three surviving children, Dave and Catherine and Steve. Grandchildren and great-grandchildren made up the rest of the fourteen remaining blood relatives. There are also, spouses and "step" grandchildren and great-grandchildren whom I hold very dear. The families gathered to witness and celebrate the occasion at the home of my youngest son, Steve and his wife Monika. They have such a beautiful location, right on the shore of Vaseux Lake.
It has been a favourite site for family picnics for decades, but recently Steve and Mo have been renting out the lower suite and the beach as summer vacation rentals. Good for them, but we do miss our picnics there. Last year the family picnic was at a public park across from Okanagan Lake, and served almost as well.
The previous Sunday, August 11th, was St. Clare's Day. My husband and I celebrated our tenth anniversaries as professed Franciscans (TSSF.org.) and hosted a lunch for the congregation after the church service. Steve and Monika and Catherine came to help us celebrate.
So here we are at August 19, 2019. This month has been very busy. Two of the most auspicious days are now behind us now. Saturday was the wedding day for my grandson Dustin and his beautiful bride, Nicole. I was delighted to count no fewer than 17 people there who are blood relatives of mine! My three surviving children, Dave and Catherine and Steve. Grandchildren and great-grandchildren made up the rest of the fourteen remaining blood relatives. There are also, spouses and "step" grandchildren and great-grandchildren whom I hold very dear. The families gathered to witness and celebrate the occasion at the home of my youngest son, Steve and his wife Monika. They have such a beautiful location, right on the shore of Vaseux Lake.
It has been a favourite site for family picnics for decades, but recently Steve and Mo have been renting out the lower suite and the beach as summer vacation rentals. Good for them, but we do miss our picnics there. Last year the family picnic was at a public park across from Okanagan Lake, and served almost as well.
The previous Sunday, August 11th, was St. Clare's Day. My husband and I celebrated our tenth anniversaries as professed Franciscans (TSSF.org.) and hosted a lunch for the congregation after the church service. Steve and Monika and Catherine came to help us celebrate.
Wednesday, June 26, 2019
writing and hot desking, really now
Didn't say much (anything) about writing or hot desking in my last post with this title, so I guess I owe you, eh?
First the hot desking: It's working out very well. I have been remembering to bring everything I need, and even a bit more, but that's okay. So far, I've been able to get a desk every time I come in. I was a bit worried a couple of times, because it seemed to me that I just squeezed in, getting the last desk available. It's odd not always being in the same place. It's even odder when it happens that I am in my usual place--like today, for example. I still look up at the shelf for my Kleenex box and have to remember that I now bring my own little packets each time. The drawers are always empty, of course, but I quickly fill them with my handbag and stuff that has to be repacked when it's time to go home. I keep a log of my times here, and so far I've used all eight of my pre-paid visits each month and it doesn't seem that I miss not having more. Of course, I can come in on the weekend if I want to, thanks to my $25 extra for the key and 24/7 access privilege. Haven't used that yet, but I do quite regularly use this privilege by staying well past 5pm closing time. This is now nearing the end of my third month of hot desking, and I'm perfectly happy with the way it's going.
Now. Writing. Hm. Okay. It's not the way I would like it to be.
I have not been able to face the novel that got jumbled in the USP thing that turned my work into a mess of upside-down question marks, etc. I just can't face it yet. I haven't even looked to see how much of it was salvaged by being printed out. It's on a shelf in my bedroom, giving me nightmares. That's the first book in the trilogy, its title is House of Secrets.
The second book in the trilogy is called Baby's Breath. I've taken the rewritten first few pages of chapter one of that to the critique group mentioned in the previous post. Seven hundred words out of seventy thousand--to be reread and rewritten according to advice from peers who have no idea what the first book was about or what this book is going to be about. Yes, the feedback is helpful. Yes, they have good suggestions. But it would take a thousand years to get the rest of it done, at this rate. So, instead of doing that, I've taken to making character sketches of about 700 words for them to critique, and maybe some them will make it into the book. However, at the age of 80 (I'll be 81 in less than three months) I'll need to live to be 200 to complete the trilogy.
Here's an idea: Maybe if I work on book 2 (Baby's Breath) in July--just as if it were a Nanowrimo project, write the whole thing in 30 days. Then, in August, pound out book three, I think it's to be called something like Flames and Flowers, or Flowers and Flames, or something--about arson--and do that in 30 days. July and August each have 31 days, so I can cheat a little and maybe take a day or two off or do a double shift. At least that way I'll have the rough drafts down and can really concentrate on getting all three books done by the end of the year. It means taking a couple of months off from working on my autobiography, If Anyone Should Ask, but … well, we'll see which takes priority. My writing these last few months has been almost entirely working on the autobiography. I've now completed four decades.
First the hot desking: It's working out very well. I have been remembering to bring everything I need, and even a bit more, but that's okay. So far, I've been able to get a desk every time I come in. I was a bit worried a couple of times, because it seemed to me that I just squeezed in, getting the last desk available. It's odd not always being in the same place. It's even odder when it happens that I am in my usual place--like today, for example. I still look up at the shelf for my Kleenex box and have to remember that I now bring my own little packets each time. The drawers are always empty, of course, but I quickly fill them with my handbag and stuff that has to be repacked when it's time to go home. I keep a log of my times here, and so far I've used all eight of my pre-paid visits each month and it doesn't seem that I miss not having more. Of course, I can come in on the weekend if I want to, thanks to my $25 extra for the key and 24/7 access privilege. Haven't used that yet, but I do quite regularly use this privilege by staying well past 5pm closing time. This is now nearing the end of my third month of hot desking, and I'm perfectly happy with the way it's going.
Now. Writing. Hm. Okay. It's not the way I would like it to be.
I have not been able to face the novel that got jumbled in the USP thing that turned my work into a mess of upside-down question marks, etc. I just can't face it yet. I haven't even looked to see how much of it was salvaged by being printed out. It's on a shelf in my bedroom, giving me nightmares. That's the first book in the trilogy, its title is House of Secrets.
The second book in the trilogy is called Baby's Breath. I've taken the rewritten first few pages of chapter one of that to the critique group mentioned in the previous post. Seven hundred words out of seventy thousand--to be reread and rewritten according to advice from peers who have no idea what the first book was about or what this book is going to be about. Yes, the feedback is helpful. Yes, they have good suggestions. But it would take a thousand years to get the rest of it done, at this rate. So, instead of doing that, I've taken to making character sketches of about 700 words for them to critique, and maybe some them will make it into the book. However, at the age of 80 (I'll be 81 in less than three months) I'll need to live to be 200 to complete the trilogy.
Here's an idea: Maybe if I work on book 2 (Baby's Breath) in July--just as if it were a Nanowrimo project, write the whole thing in 30 days. Then, in August, pound out book three, I think it's to be called something like Flames and Flowers, or Flowers and Flames, or something--about arson--and do that in 30 days. July and August each have 31 days, so I can cheat a little and maybe take a day or two off or do a double shift. At least that way I'll have the rough drafts down and can really concentrate on getting all three books done by the end of the year. It means taking a couple of months off from working on my autobiography, If Anyone Should Ask, but … well, we'll see which takes priority. My writing these last few months has been almost entirely working on the autobiography. I've now completed four decades.
writing and hot desking
My life hasn't been all doctors and hospitals this May and June.
Let's deal with writing first: A few months ago I joined a group of writers who meet every second Saturday morning from 9:30 to noon at a local restaurant. We have a leader who has been published multiple times and is able to keep us under control, most of the time. After an introductory "lesson" on some aspect of the writing life, we take turns reading something we have written. We're put on a reading list in advance so we all come prepared with the right number of copies to pass around. We must not go beyond the word maximum, which I confess I'm not quite sure of, but I think it's about 800 words. We read aloud the piece we've prepared while the group follows and makes notes on the distributed copies. After the reading, people offer their comments and suggestions and the reader/writer listens but is not supposed to explain or otherwise interrupt the "feedback" (they don't like the word "critique" because it sounds too much like criticism). When that is all done, the reader list for the next meeting is established and many of us stay for lunch in the restaurant to continue chatting.
The "sessions" consist of about six meetings, I think, and we pay about $18 for the leader's photocopying, plus a couple of dollars for refreshments. The restaurant proprietor, Jon, provides coffee and hot water and drinking water for the $2.50 cash, and the other refreshments (doughnuts or scones, etc.) are included in the prepaid $18. I've now attended two of these sessions, but have decided to take some time out until maybe September or January.
That's the critique group part of writing.
Then there's the conference part. I've signed up for the Surrey International Writers' Conference which will be held in October 2019. I've got my hotel arranged, plus a few days with friends in Vancouver, but still need to get my flights set up. The whole thing about transportation gives me a bad taste. First off, I'm annoyed that Greyhound has abandoned all of Western Canada, and that was my preferred method of transportation. Second, while I have nothing against flying, I detest airports. I have no other choice. I could rent a car and drive the 500 km each way, but I hate driving even more than I hate airports.
Writing? Oh yeah. There's that, too, isn't there? Ok. Next post.
Let's deal with writing first: A few months ago I joined a group of writers who meet every second Saturday morning from 9:30 to noon at a local restaurant. We have a leader who has been published multiple times and is able to keep us under control, most of the time. After an introductory "lesson" on some aspect of the writing life, we take turns reading something we have written. We're put on a reading list in advance so we all come prepared with the right number of copies to pass around. We must not go beyond the word maximum, which I confess I'm not quite sure of, but I think it's about 800 words. We read aloud the piece we've prepared while the group follows and makes notes on the distributed copies. After the reading, people offer their comments and suggestions and the reader/writer listens but is not supposed to explain or otherwise interrupt the "feedback" (they don't like the word "critique" because it sounds too much like criticism). When that is all done, the reader list for the next meeting is established and many of us stay for lunch in the restaurant to continue chatting.
The "sessions" consist of about six meetings, I think, and we pay about $18 for the leader's photocopying, plus a couple of dollars for refreshments. The restaurant proprietor, Jon, provides coffee and hot water and drinking water for the $2.50 cash, and the other refreshments (doughnuts or scones, etc.) are included in the prepaid $18. I've now attended two of these sessions, but have decided to take some time out until maybe September or January.
That's the critique group part of writing.
Then there's the conference part. I've signed up for the Surrey International Writers' Conference which will be held in October 2019. I've got my hotel arranged, plus a few days with friends in Vancouver, but still need to get my flights set up. The whole thing about transportation gives me a bad taste. First off, I'm annoyed that Greyhound has abandoned all of Western Canada, and that was my preferred method of transportation. Second, while I have nothing against flying, I detest airports. I have no other choice. I could rent a car and drive the 500 km each way, but I hate driving even more than I hate airports.
Writing? Oh yeah. There's that, too, isn't there? Ok. Next post.
June already? and mostly gone!
Whatever happened to May? Posting once a month is pretty bad as it is, but missing a whole month is almost unforgivable.
It was a busy month, of course. Seems like we did nothing but visit doctors, and that has continued through June, too.
My husband, Frank, was told several years ago that the day would come when he would need his aortic valve replaced. It appears that that day is almost upon us. So, many of those doctor visits were related to that upcoming event.
A week ago Friday, we had to spend a couple of nights in a hotel in Kelowna because he needed to be at Kelowna General Hospital at 7am for an angiogram and was not allowed to go home until the day after the procedure. Tomorrow we have to go back to Kelowna (a city about an hour drive from Penticton, where we live) for a consult and more tests. Last time, we got my daughter-in-law to drive us to Kelowna and help us get settled in the Royal Anne Hotel, my son Dave came and helped us get from the hospital back to the hotel after the angiogram, and my daughter and son-in-law drove to Kelowna to bring us home. Tomorrow, my granddaughter will drive us to the Kelowna hospital from our Penticton home, and later in the day Dave will pick us up at the hospital and drive us back to Penticton.
As you can see, there has been a lot of focus on Frank's health. My health has also been an issue. I've been diagnosed with Caregiver Burn-out Depression. It's not clinical, so I'm not on medication. I do have Group Therapy sessions every two weeks, and can have one-on-one if I ask for it. So far, I've had only one of the individual sessions. I find the group very helpful, if only to prove to myself that my situation could be a lot worse. My husband's health is physical. Those caring for loved-ones with dementia have a much worse time.
As you can see, there has been a lot of focus on Frank's health. My health has also been an issue. I've been diagnosed with Caregiver Burn-out Depression. It's not clinical, so I'm not on medication. I do have Group Therapy sessions every two weeks, and can have one-on-one if I ask for it. So far, I've had only one of the individual sessions. I find the group very helpful, if only to prove to myself that my situation could be a lot worse. My husband's health is physical. Those caring for loved-ones with dementia have a much worse time.
One more thing has happened that is good for both my husband and for me: He is now attending Adult Day Care once a week, which gives me Saturdays free! And he gets to visit with other people and participate in games, etc., instead of spending all day watching TV. (The Saturday program is for those who qualify for the day care, but do not have dementia.) It costs only $10 a day, and includes a very healthy lunch which would itself cost a lot more than $10 in a restaurant. A bus picks him up about 9:30 am and brings him back about 3 pm. Best of all, he enjoys it. Next Saturday, caregivers and spouses are invited to join the group (about 9 or 10 of them) to go to Agur Lake for a picnic. That will be $3 each extra. I think we can afford the $6. Especially since I don't have to prepare a picnic lunch--that will be provided, along with the transportation.
Tuesday, April 2, 2019
Hot Desking Day 1
It'll get better as I get used to it. Today, I couldn't remember where I'd put my computer. I usually leave it at Cowork, but I don't have a locked desk there anymore. It took me about fifteen or twenty minutes to find it in the most sensible place I could have thought of: on my roll-top desk at home. Fortunately, everything that goes with it was all there, so I hadn't lost anything.
Having it at home since last Friday afternoon was a blessing, because on Friday night Cowork was broken into, and people lost laptop computers, hard disks, camera equipment and a couple of bikes. My stuff was safe at home--even though I forgot where.
Then I tried to use my cell phone here a few minutes ago. Battery dying, red line! Charging cord? At home. Luckily, one of the guys here lent me his, so my phone is now charging. Must not forget to pack that in my suitcase and keep the computer et al there too.
I must pack the suitcase ready for all eventualities.
The only other thing that I'm missing is my log book. I always take note of the day, date and time of my attendance at Cowork, and what I intend to do on arrival and how much I've accomplished or what I didn't get done, when I pack it up for the day somewhere around six or seven at night. I call a cab and go home around that time. I also note how much money I spend on taxis and lunches, etc. That notebook is at home, somewhere safe, no doubt.
Having it at home since last Friday afternoon was a blessing, because on Friday night Cowork was broken into, and people lost laptop computers, hard disks, camera equipment and a couple of bikes. My stuff was safe at home--even though I forgot where.
Then I tried to use my cell phone here a few minutes ago. Battery dying, red line! Charging cord? At home. Luckily, one of the guys here lent me his, so my phone is now charging. Must not forget to pack that in my suitcase and keep the computer et al there too.
I must pack the suitcase ready for all eventualities.
The only other thing that I'm missing is my log book. I always take note of the day, date and time of my attendance at Cowork, and what I intend to do on arrival and how much I've accomplished or what I didn't get done, when I pack it up for the day somewhere around six or seven at night. I call a cab and go home around that time. I also note how much money I spend on taxis and lunches, etc. That notebook is at home, somewhere safe, no doubt.
Wednesday, March 27, 2019
desk in a suitcase 1
I'm not a fan of change. But it has occurred to me that I'm not making best use of the resources I have. For example, I have a desk and a filing cabinet and two bookcases and a sofa in a small room. So why do I have to rent a desk at Cowork (my favourite get-away)? I can do what I did when I first moved to Penticton. I can "hot desk" at Cowork. That means, instead of having a desk that is just for me, with locked drawers where I can keep my computer and "stuff", I just use any vacant desk and pay for the time I actually use it. Or I can pre-pay for eight days a month. For less than $130 per month (plus $25) I can go in any 8 days of the month, and have access to the building 24 hours a day 7 days a week so I can stay past the 5pm closing time, and come in on weekends, etc. As it is, I still have the 24 hours privilege as well as the locked desk, but I rarely go there more than eight days in a month. The locked desk, etc., comes to roughly $430 per month.
In addition to saving a few dollars every month, I think I can work more efficiently if I develop my idea of a desk in a suitcase.
My suitcase is quite small--it will fit in an overhead bin on an airplane. It has good wheels and a matching tote-bag that fits on top, attached to the collapsible handle. I can easily get it to and from Cowork, and keep all my work with me at home as well as at the office.
I'll let you know how that works out for me.
In addition to saving a few dollars every month, I think I can work more efficiently if I develop my idea of a desk in a suitcase.
My suitcase is quite small--it will fit in an overhead bin on an airplane. It has good wheels and a matching tote-bag that fits on top, attached to the collapsible handle. I can easily get it to and from Cowork, and keep all my work with me at home as well as at the office.
I'll let you know how that works out for me.
Wednesday, February 13, 2019
February birthdays
Hallelujah! This morning at 12:33 a.m., I was blessed with a new great-grandson! His name is Grayson. Although I have other great grandchildren, all of whom I adore with all my heart, this one is the first to continue the male line in our family. My eldest son (Frank, who died on Nov. 30, 2005) had only one son, and he drowned on May 22, 2005. My second son, Ken, who also died (Aug. 14, 2012), had three sons and one daughter. One of his sons has a daughter and a step-daughter. Ken's daughter has two sons, but they do not carry on the male line (the Jones name--which as you know is in danger of dying out! Not!) But now, Ken's second son, Dustin, has a son, Grayson. Lucky Grayson has an older (half) sister. My daughter did a count of all my grandchildren and great grandchildren and came up with the fact that Grayson is #20. I'll leave the math to others. I'm just so happy to have these wonderful young people in our family.
The heading says February birthdays. So, here they are: February 8th was Ken's birthday. February 12th is Ken's first grandson's birthday. Now, Grayson's is February 13th. My mother-in-law's birthday was Valentine's Day (but she died in 1974, I think). My eldest son, Frank's birthday was February 16th, and his dad's is February 17th, as was my father-in-law's. My dad's birthday was February 20th. I don't think there is another month in the year with so many birthdays in our family.
The heading says February birthdays. So, here they are: February 8th was Ken's birthday. February 12th is Ken's first grandson's birthday. Now, Grayson's is February 13th. My mother-in-law's birthday was Valentine's Day (but she died in 1974, I think). My eldest son, Frank's birthday was February 16th, and his dad's is February 17th, as was my father-in-law's. My dad's birthday was February 20th. I don't think there is another month in the year with so many birthdays in our family.
Tuesday, January 8, 2019
Epiphany 2019
Every year, in January, we celebrate Epiphany instead of Christmas. We started this years ago when our kids started getting married and having their own traditions--in their own homes or with in-laws or with friends. So, instead of trying to compete, we set up our own tradition and invited all family members to come for brunch on Epiphany to celebrate the visit of the Magi to the baby Jesus. This celebration has taken different forms over the years, but the core of it remains constant. The question is not what do you want to get, but what do you want to give. Jesus said that whatever we do to "the least of these my brethren" (the poorest people) you have done it to him. So, like the Magi, we give gifts to Jesus instead of to each other. For this, we use the World Vision catalogue.
The day usually goes something like this: family members begin to arrive about 11a.m. The coffee is put on, and we chat for a while. I have plates of cookies, Japanese oranges, nuts, chocolates, etc. for nibbles. Then one of my sons (Steve does it now) goes into the kitchen to make the brunch. I have about three dozen eggs, 6 cans of asparagus, 3 dozen English muffins, and a couple of hams all set out to be made into Eggs Benedict without the sauce. On the dining table there are two big punch bowls of juice and pop. No alcohol since the year one of my grandsons got drunk drinking the "adult" punch instead of the kids' punch. He was only four years old. In the fridge, there are a couple of trifles to be set out when the eggs and ham are done. Again, no more alcohol in the trifles--just Jello, pudding, cake and fruit.
We used to play a circle game, like musical chairs, for those who brought gifts to pass around. That died out a few years ago. But we still play the bucket game. I have a bucket filled with wrapped gifts--some of them are pretty good like chocolates or wine or a gift card to a restaurant. Other gifts are cheap and silly, like a set of kids' blocks or a pair of pantyhose or a deck of cards. People take turns choosing a gift. They open it up and show everyone and the next person has the choice of stealing a gift that is already open, or choosing a wrapped one from the bucket.
This year we added "chalking the door"--an ancient religious ceremony where a member of the family, or a priest if one is handy, take some chalk (which is supposed to have been blessed, but we didn't have any blessed chalk this year) and writes on the lintel of the main entrance:
"20 C + M + B 19". This is 2019, broken up so it begins with 20, then we add C, M, B, and close it up with 19.>2019. C stands for Caspar, M is for Melchior, and B is for Balthazar, the supposed names of the three kings who followed the star to visit Jesus, the Magi. The other interpretation of the letters is Christus Mansionem Benedicat, or May Christ bless this house. The crosses between the letters represent the cross of Jesus, his death and resurrection.
Best of all is the gathering of family members. This year we had all three of our surviving children, a couple of grandchildren and two great grandchildren (one a teenager the other a babe-in-arms).
I've been writing my autobiography, If Anyone Should Ask. I've been writing it in decades rather than chapters. Last September, on my 80th birthday, I distributed Decade One. At the Epiphany Brunch this year, I distributed Decade Two. We expect that the great-grandson who visited us this Epiphany will be baptized at Easter (hopefully) and we'll have a family gathering for that. At that time, I hope to be able to distribute Decade Three--but first I have to write it.
The day usually goes something like this: family members begin to arrive about 11a.m. The coffee is put on, and we chat for a while. I have plates of cookies, Japanese oranges, nuts, chocolates, etc. for nibbles. Then one of my sons (Steve does it now) goes into the kitchen to make the brunch. I have about three dozen eggs, 6 cans of asparagus, 3 dozen English muffins, and a couple of hams all set out to be made into Eggs Benedict without the sauce. On the dining table there are two big punch bowls of juice and pop. No alcohol since the year one of my grandsons got drunk drinking the "adult" punch instead of the kids' punch. He was only four years old. In the fridge, there are a couple of trifles to be set out when the eggs and ham are done. Again, no more alcohol in the trifles--just Jello, pudding, cake and fruit.
We used to play a circle game, like musical chairs, for those who brought gifts to pass around. That died out a few years ago. But we still play the bucket game. I have a bucket filled with wrapped gifts--some of them are pretty good like chocolates or wine or a gift card to a restaurant. Other gifts are cheap and silly, like a set of kids' blocks or a pair of pantyhose or a deck of cards. People take turns choosing a gift. They open it up and show everyone and the next person has the choice of stealing a gift that is already open, or choosing a wrapped one from the bucket.
This year we added "chalking the door"--an ancient religious ceremony where a member of the family, or a priest if one is handy, take some chalk (which is supposed to have been blessed, but we didn't have any blessed chalk this year) and writes on the lintel of the main entrance:
"20 C + M + B 19". This is 2019, broken up so it begins with 20, then we add C, M, B, and close it up with 19.>2019. C stands for Caspar, M is for Melchior, and B is for Balthazar, the supposed names of the three kings who followed the star to visit Jesus, the Magi. The other interpretation of the letters is Christus Mansionem Benedicat, or May Christ bless this house. The crosses between the letters represent the cross of Jesus, his death and resurrection.
Best of all is the gathering of family members. This year we had all three of our surviving children, a couple of grandchildren and two great grandchildren (one a teenager the other a babe-in-arms).
I've been writing my autobiography, If Anyone Should Ask. I've been writing it in decades rather than chapters. Last September, on my 80th birthday, I distributed Decade One. At the Epiphany Brunch this year, I distributed Decade Two. We expect that the great-grandson who visited us this Epiphany will be baptized at Easter (hopefully) and we'll have a family gathering for that. At that time, I hope to be able to distribute Decade Three--but first I have to write it.
the new year, 2019
I really blew it with my Epiphany Letter this year! I hate to think my memory is going--I cherish it so much. But somehow I totally forgot what happened last New Year's Eve and wrote about the year before. Really! I still don't remember what we did New Year's Eve 2017/18. But it was the previous year that Frank had his stroke at midnight and then had to have the pacemaker put in. And that's what I announced in my annual newsletter. Our friends and relatives who knew better must have thought I'd really lost it, or maybe Frank had another attack. No, he's fine. But as for last year? I have no idea.
This year's New Year's Eve was peaceful. We had a light supper of leftover turkey soup, then I set out a platter for the two of us, of just crackers and Kerrywood Dubliner Cheese and some green olives. I opened a bottle of sparkling rose wine, and we started our nibbling and sipping about 6 pm. By midnight, the bottle was almost done, as were the nibbles. We toasted the new year, banged some kettles and things outside on the patio to announce the arrival of 2019. Then Frank went to bed and I watched tv for a while.
So, here's to a new year filled with happy memories--some of which I hope I'll be able to recall this time next year!
This year's New Year's Eve was peaceful. We had a light supper of leftover turkey soup, then I set out a platter for the two of us, of just crackers and Kerrywood Dubliner Cheese and some green olives. I opened a bottle of sparkling rose wine, and we started our nibbling and sipping about 6 pm. By midnight, the bottle was almost done, as were the nibbles. We toasted the new year, banged some kettles and things outside on the patio to announce the arrival of 2019. Then Frank went to bed and I watched tv for a while.
So, here's to a new year filled with happy memories--some of which I hope I'll be able to recall this time next year!
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