So much going on...

First, I want to say thank you to everyone for your kind words of support about my mother. When you get a call late at night saying that this may be the last time you get to see your mother alive, you tend to panic. The events of the last week certainly have "put my pacemaker in high gear".

Oh my, where do I start? Well, my mom had a stroke and a fall. We're not sure which came first, the stroke or the fall but she has bleeding on a couple of spots in her brain. The doctors were also rather concerned about the possibility of her developing pneumonia as she aspirated some vomit during one of the seizures she had when she got to the hospital.

She's spent this week in the neurological observation unit and I won't know if she will be stable enough to step down to a regular hospital room until the end of the week. Lise and I plan to travel back to Ottawa this weekend so I should know more in a few days.

Ok, so I have my mom in the hospital almost 800 kms away and I'm scheduled to go in for surgery on my shoulder next week. I have a pinched nerve in my back (which makes driving for 10 hours particularly delightful) and I'm supposed to have my new roof installed next week. Valium anyone?

This has been quite the emotional week for me. My mom has suffered the last few of years with dementia so when I call her she doesn't often know it's me she's talking to. She thinks she's talking to one of her sisters and that makes it hard because when my aunt asks her if she's heard from me she says she hasn't talked to me in years then I'll get a call from my aunt scolding me for not calling my mother. (sigh)

Mom does have moments of lucidity but 90% of the time you have to repeat things over and over because she doesn't remember things. They say that people with certain types of dementia can remember things from their past like it was yesterday but can't remember what they had for breakfast today. My mom, sometimes can't remember things from the past either. I was surprised that she even recognized me when I saw her at the hospital.

From what my brother said on the phone, as we drove to Ottawa, Lise and I were not sure what we'd be walking into. We didn't know what to pack so just in case we brought "funeral clothes". All I kept saying to myself as we traveled each kilometer was, "Mom, hang on, don't die, I'm on my way." I just wanted to see her alive one more time, even if it was only for 5 minutes, just to tell her that I love her and always have.

Mom and I spent several years estranged when I came out to her and she tried to have my kids taken from me. My mom is not a bad person it's just that she became a Catholic charsimaniac and for several years I simply couldn't reason with her. We finally patched things up about eight years ago but things remained rather strained.

We've never been a family that talks things over let alone express how we feel so in a lot of ways we are like a bunch of strangers where the only thing we have in common is that we survived being stranded on a deserted island. It's kind of sad when you think about it. I've waited almost 50 years to hear my mother tell me that she loves me. When I left her, she held my hand, kissed me and told me she loved me and while that was so very good to hear it also makes me very sad. Sad that I only hear this now that she is demented and disoriented. How do I know that she knew it was me she said she loved or if she thought I was someone else? At this point, does that even matter?

Anyway, just being in Ottawa has been very emotional for me. I've always loved the city of Ottawa. It has many charms and many fond memories but it is also the city I fled when leaving my abusive ex-husband. So returning to Ottawa has brought back those memories too and the thought that had I not had to leave Ottawa I might still live there and therefore been able to help my brothers look after my mom.

Oh well, you can't put the toothpaste back in the tube and shucks, if I hadn't left Ottawa perhaps I might have never met Lise or found my haven at my Lakeside Lair?

My mom

I'm in Ottawa today. My brother called late Thursday night to tell me that my mom had a fall and a stroke. Lise and I spent all day yesterday driving here. I saw her briefly last night. She looks so old and afraid.

I'm heading back to the hospital this morning. Will have more to write later.

There is a scene in the movie City of Angels where you see all the angels in long black trench coats gazing off into the sunrise. It's really quite a beautiful and haunting scene and one which immediately came to mind this morning as I drove to work and saw this:



Every day I drive by a farm where turkey vultures roost in the surrounding woods. I have seen these turkey vultures roosting in the trees before but this morning they were all sitting in the treetops with their wings extended.


I've never seen this before and I wondered if they were not drying their wings out from the thunderstorms we had last night. That seems the most practical answer but the sight of it was striking enough to make me double back and stop to take these pics.

The joys of home maintenance

This is the second house I have owned and I've come to the conclusion that maintaining a house is like threading beads on a string that has no knot tied on the end. I guess I could say that about kitchens too because just when you get all the dishes done, the counters wiped and everything put away, it's time to fix another meal. (sigh)

I remember my first night in my very first apartment. I went to the bathroom and there was no toilet paper. That's when it hit me, toilet paper doesn't magically appear from an endless roll. Somebody has to go out and buy it then put it on the holder. As a kid living at home these are the sort of things you take for granted - there will always be toilet paper, toothpaste and something edible in the fridge.

When I bought my first house, in the excitement of it all, I don't think it ever really reached the conscious part of my brain that I'd have to do stuff to keep it going. Yeah, I knew I'd have to dust but it never really dawned on me that owning a house means you have to do things like cleaning out the eaves troughs.

Miss Preen, my high school home economics teacher (gee, do they even teach home ec anymore?), was, I believe, negligent in not telling us that there was more to successfully running a home than knowing how to make a pot roast and sew a button on a blouse.

Maybe I shouldn't totally blame Miss Preen. After all in those days we were expected to marry some brawny guy who would take care of all the things that required the use of anything other than a 3 speed mixer. Well for some of us life didn't turn out that way and over the years I've had to teach myself how to do simple (and some not so simple) household repairs.

Last night's project was repairing a part of my kitchen floor. When we moved into the Lakeside Lair Desi, one of my chihuahua-rat terrier dogs, found a seam in the vinyl flooring and started to dig. I came home from work one day to find a large section of the vinyl had been ripped and chewed away. I was thrilled. The floor was icky enough when we bought the place but at least it was in one piece.

I cut that mangled section back and would hide it with a rug when company came but in the last few months the vinyl was starting to curl and it was looking worse and worse as time wore on. So yesterday on my way home from work I stopped in at Home Depot and picked up a few peel and stick tiles.

After supper I gathered my tools (yes sports fans, I do have tools), plopped myself down on the floor and went to work cutting away and squaring off the old vinyl. Then scraping off the paper backing and brittle glue, sweeping things clean and putting the new tiles down. These new tiles look nothing like the old floor but they were the closest in colour and at least now, it looks clean and shiny.

I plan to replace the entire floor next year with a new floating vinyl floor (another DIY project) but I'll have to wait until I pay off the new roof I'm having installed in two weeks.

Tonight's projects are two plumbing projects.

Project #1: The shower stall has had an annoying drip. Over the last week or so it's gotten worse. I figured it might be a washer or something loose in there so this morning, after Lise and I had our showers I took the shower faucet apart and brought the stem and little ball into Home Depot to look for a repair kit. I've got a little zip-loc bag in my car with tiny springs and little black rubber washers in it. Tonight I get to play with my set of allen keys and my big monkey wrench.

Project #2: Last night after watching the finale of America's Got Talent I padded to the kitchen for a snack. While trying to decide if I wanted a peach or a couple of crackers with liverwurst and mustard, I thought I heard water running and that's never a good thing. I kinda stood there for a moment trying to figure out where the sound was coming from when I realized that it sounded like it was coming from the other bathroom.

When I walked into the bathroom the floor was wet and the toilet was running (so I caught it - ba, da bum! lol). I lifted the lid of the tank and water was squirting everywhere! I shut off the water supply, got the mop and took a look at the innards.

That toilet doesn't have a ball float but one of those stack-type float contraptions. At the top of that stack is where the water flows into the tank. On my toilet, this is busted. So project number two tonight is to replace my toilet's innards. I've got that kit in the car too so between these projects I've got plenty to keep me off the streets and out of pool halls.

Anyway, when you own a house there is always something that needs getting done or fixed. At first the realization can be quite shocking but in time, like any adjustment, you get used to it. Look at me, I actually like going into hardware stores and get a kick out of watching the clerk's face as I try to describe the thing-a-ma-jig that attaches to the what-cha-call-it that I need to fix the doo-hicky.

Shopping for jeans

I hate shopping for jeans. After shopping for shoes, shopping for jeans will get me depressed every time. I've got a small waist and a bit of a booty so that makes it really hard to find jeans that fit well. When I find something that fits well around my hips and bum, it puckers out at the back of my waist so much that I end up showing off my knickers. The other thing is that I'm only 5ft 4.5 inches tall. Petite sizes are just a tad too small/short while regular sized clothes are often just a bit too big. What I don't understand is why the larger you go in size the longer the pant leg gets. What's that all about? Women get fatter, not taller. Yeah, I could take jeans to a seamstress but I think the jean manufacturers should just make jeans that fit real women.

After dropping waistlines and finally finding something halfway flattering in the Gap's Long and Lean jean, they tell me that the high waist is coming back. I just got rid of my high waist jeans because I thought they made me look too matronly. Sure, I may be a grandma but I'm not ready for support hose and a cotton duster.

I'll stick to Timmy's...

Many Canadians can't start their day without their Tim Horton's coffee. Travel to just about any town in Canada and you'll find locals chewing the fat and sipping on a double-double or line-ups at the drive-through.

To be honest, Tim's doesn't have the best coffee I ever had but a large coffee only costs $1.39 and since, when the birds fly over my house they say, "cheap, cheap, cheap", I refuse to spend more than two bucks on a cup of java. Hmm, I may be the only person in North America who has never had Starbucks. Lise likes one of their fancy caramel concoctions but at almost 6 bucks I'd rather not.

So being the cheapskate that I am, I just about lost my mind when I heard about cat poo coffee.

Plan B

Well, since it was raining and I was determined to get out and play with my new camera we decided to head out to Colasanti's.

It was close to lunchtime so we drove to Leamington first to have lunch. We stopped at a diner right near the dock for the ferry to Pelee Island. It was the type of mom & pop diner I love and I said "F-the diet" and had the pastrami special. I took a couple of pics from the dock but was afraid to get my camera wet so just hopped out of the car for a quick click or two.

We then drove to Ruthven and Colasanti's Tropical Garden. Colasanti's is a landmark in these parts where generations have enjoyed weekend outings and school field trips. The best way to describe Colasanti's is that it's a giant working greenhouse where they have set up themed sections open to the public.

They have a restaurant, Christmas shop, sweets shop, mini-golf course, kiddie rides, arcade, petting zoo and of course, all kinds of plants and flowers. It's a great place to take your kids or a warm place in the winter months to wander around looking at the plants and garden accessories. We spent a couple hours there then headed home via Kingsville.

One of the interesting things about this area is that there are so many greenhouses. The greenhouses here grow everything from flowers to tomatoes. Leamington is home to the Heinz ketchup factory and is known as Canada's Tomato Capital. As I drive around I see fields and fields of tomatoes all destined for Heinz.

Funny thing is that it's hard to find a field tomato to eat. Almost all of the roadside stands sell greenhouse tomatoes not field tomatoes and to me, they just don't taste the same. Greenhouse tomatoes are grown for their looks. I heard a greenhouse owner's interview on the CBC last year and he said that consumers want perfectly round, very red tomatoes. I suppose they have more control over the tomatoes' looks in a controlled environment like a greenhouse.

Field tomatoes can be asymmetrical and have brown blemishes. Not pretty but very tasty. In my opinion there is nothing like a thick slice of a big, fat beefsteak tomato in a sandwich with some fresh basil, a little mayo (or aioli), fresh ground pepper and a dash of ground smoked sea salt. Yummy!

Ok, so here's a slideshow of today's photos. Enjoy.

Sunday Morning

Today Lise and I planned on visiting the Fujisawa Zen Gardens so I could play around with my camera. I got up, put on a pot of coffee and grabbed my laptop so I could sit outside and surf but when I looked out the patio door, this is what I saw:


Yep, that's rain. The local farmers will be happy about the rain but I'm not. It's raining so I can't sit outside, sip coffee and write. Bummer. Bigger bummer is that I have a terminally diseased roof so rain is not my friend right now.

Anyhow, back to this picture. This patio is where (weather permitting) I sit and write my blog. I live at the dead end of a dirt road and just beyond those trees is the beach. You can't actually see the lake in the summer because of the trees but you can hear it and the waves lull me to sleep at night.


This is the front of my house. Where the patio doors are is the original cottage. The part to the right is the addition. Even from this picture you can see how bad the roof is. (sigh) On top of the roof you can see my TV and wireless internet antenna, what you can't see is that I also have a satellite dish. We can't get cable TV, DSL or cable internet out here so without these gizmos I'd be stuck with snow-static, ghost filled TV images of the PBS station from across the lake in Ohio and dial-up internet. Cripes, I'd rather chew tin foil. So that explains why the roof line of my house looks like I'm the Mother Ship.

Lise and I wanted to get out of the house and do something outside today. With the rain it looks like we'll have to come up with a "plan B".

The Mummy Strikes Again

Some people just shouldn't have been allowed in the gene pool.

Saturday Morning Cartoons

Feeling rather nostalgic these days. It's a beautiful Saturday morning here and I'm sitting on the patio enjoying the sound of the doves and drinking my coffee. This is a weekend morning ritual for me but many years ago my Saturday morning ritual was a bowl of Sugar Pops and cartoons.

We only got three or four TV stations then and we couldn't afford a color TV until 1969 but as soon as our chores were done, we'd plop ourselves in front of the box until noon. We'd skedaddle out of the house as soon as the cartoons were done because we knew that if we stuck around, mom would find more chores for us to do. So if the weather was nice, for the rest of the day we ran like terrors throughout the neighbourhood with my brother's Daisy air rifle. If it rained we'd spend the day in the garage playing school or Mass. Yeah, we took turns being the priest and used soda crackers for the host.

Anyway, here's a few cartoons I watched as a child:

Magilla Gorilla


Roger Ramjet


Yogi Bear

I'm not happy...

Can you guess what this is?

Nope, it's not a volcanic landscape or an electron microscopic view of a human scab. Nope, it's the south side of my roof. Pretty scary eh?

The south side of the house is the new addition. This is our third summer here at the lake and when we bought this house the agent said that the addition was added eight years earlier. Which would mean that the addition was built eleven years ago. She also assured us that all of the upgrades (furnace, electrical, windows etc.) had all been upgraded when this addition was built. I am now convinced that she had a wooden nose.

Last March we had a cold spell and one day couldn't figure out why the house didn't seem to be warming up. We called a repairman in to look at the furnace and were told that the heat exchange box was cracked. This, I've learned is a big deal because they had to tag my furnace and notify the gas company. The gas company gave me 10 days to have the furnace replaced or they would shut the gas off to my house. Of course I freaked. I was led to believe that I was buying a home with an 8 year old furnace. Turns our the furnace was more than 12 years old. So eight weeks before my son's wedding I had to buy a new furnace.

You know I never really noticed anything seriously wrong with the roof until we started noticing gravelly bits on the ground when sweeping up outside this spring. Lise got the ladder out to clean out the eaves and said that she thought something was wrong with the roof. We both saw a big patch of curing shingles and decided that we'd start saving for a new roof next year.

Well, in the last two weeks we noticed two, almost dinner-plate sized stains on the ceiling in two different parts of the house. Conclusion: new roof can't wait.

So this week I have been researching roofing materials, methods, standards and getting estimates. I hate this. I always feel like I'm getting taken. I always feel like if I were a guy I'd get a fair shake. If I were a guy they wouldn't try to bamboozle me with "trade-speak". I know that I'm a big gal and shouldn't whine but I want Mike Holmes to swoop in with his Dewalt power tools and rescue me.

Shhhh, don't tell anyone...

I like to think that I'm not the only person who has guilty indulgences. I'm not talking about something like chocolate or new shoes. I'm talking about liking things that your friends may think you wouldn't like.

For example, Lise teases me because I like old school country music - I'm talking Loretta Lynn, Don Williams and George Jones. Don't know much about contemporary country music but I just love me some old time pickers and grinners. She also teases me because I like to rock out to The Eagles and Steve Miller Band. You see, she assumed that growing up I would have listened more to R&B or disco. Well, I did listen to R&B and disco as well as Strauss, Chopin, Chicago, Earth Wind & Fire and Pink Floyd.

Lise and I were having dinner the other night with some friends (another lesbian couple) and we began to discuss movies and TV shows that we had seen and enjoyed. I wish I had a camera to capture the look of distaste on their faces when I told them that I was a fan of HBO's series, Big Love. Come to think of it, Lise's brother and his husband had that same look on their faces when I told them about the show's premise.

Big Love is about a family of polygamists - a man with three wives and the intricacies of their lives. My friends could not understand how, as a lesbian and a recovering christian, I would really dig this show. I tried to explain that coming from a Catholic/Baptist/Salvationist background I find their interpretation of Christianity fascinating in light of the deception in their lives. There are so many levels of intrigue, manipulation and deception in this series it's almost like watching a train wreck in slow motion. Big Love has been picked up by HBO for a third season and with season two just about wrapping up I can't wait to see what's going to happen. Here's the trailer for the second season:




My other shameful indulgence is the Showtime series, Dexter. Here's a guy who looks like Opie Taylor, works as a blood splatter expert for the Miami police and just so happens to also be a serial killer. How on earth could a middle-aged lesbo relate to such a character? I sure as hell don't know but I find myself actually feeling sympathy for the guy. Here's the trailer:



Yeah, I'm also a fan of The L Word and Rome but for the next few weeks on Sunday nights I'm watching polygamists and a serial killer. Shhh, don't tell my Birkenstocked friends...

Bouncy Baby

I've been trying to upload this video here for the last several days but haven't be able to because my internet connection sucks. Anyway, all frustration aside here's another short video of my little grand daughter Eve.