Never Ending Winter

It is April 17, 2011 and it one week until Easter.  I have crocuses popping their little purple heads out of the soil... and it is snowing.  Not a little flake here or there but a full fledge snow storm.  Now, it only lasted about 10 minutes and then an hour later for another 10 minutes.  This process continued for most of the day.  I should be thinking about warm weather and gardening and where have I packed my raincoat – Not feeling as though I am stuck in a snow globe and someone keeps shaking it.

I have decided to make some big changes this summer.  I am selling my house, moving to Newfoundland and starting a new life there.   I am ready for this, but it seems that Mother Nature is keeping me from my summer plans.  I understand that it is a woman’s prerogative to change her mind but this is ridiculous.  It was 20 degrees last week and it is -2 today... is she going through menopause?

I have been met with some weird looks of late.  When I tell people that I am moving down East, their first response is ... I hope you like snow... or rain.  Well, folks, here in Barrie, Ontario, we had our first snowfall on October 22, 2010... That is 178 days or for those having a brain freeze, that is 5 months and 27 days. 

That is just shy of ½ of a year.  What happen to the four seasons? Please no snappy comments about “Walk like a man” or Vivaldi.   At least our four seasons of weather are easy to remember...Almost Winter...Winter...Still Winter...and...Is Winter Almost Over??  I think I am going to be able to handle the weather in St. John’s and after the year I have had, I think I can handle anything.

Antisthenes says that in a certain faraway land the cold is so intense that words freeze as soon as they are uttered, and after some time then thaw and become audible, so that words spoken in winter go unheard until the next summer.  ~Plutarch, Moralia

No Regrets

Never regret anything that made you smile at one time, laugh until your sides hurt… made you happy.  I will never regret a single day of my life with my soon to be ex-husband.    I signed the application for divorce today.  The beginning of the end of a 16 year marriage.  It is a new start for me but there will always be a part of me that mourns for the life we had together.

 My Aunt Sharon sent me this poem shortly after she found out about our separation.  I have read it many times and appreciate it more every time.

AFTER A WHILE

After a while you learn the subtle difference

between holding a hand and sharing a life

and you learn that love doesn’t mean possession

and company doesn’t mean security

and loneliness is universal.

And you learn that kisses aren’t contracts

and presents aren’t promises

And you begin to accept your defeats

with your head up and your eyes open

with the grace of a woman

and the grief of a child.

And you learn to build your hope on today

as the future has a way of falling apart in mid-flight

because tomorrow’s ground can be too uncertain for plans

yet each step taken in a new direction creates a path

toward the promise of a brighter dawn.

And you learn that even sunshine burns

if you get too much

so you plant your own garden

and nourish your own soul

instead of waiting for someone

to bring you flowers.

And you learn that love, true love, always has joys and sorrows

seems ever present, yet is never quite the same

becoming more than love and less than love

so difficult to define.

And you learn that through it all

you really can endure

that you really are strong

that you do have value

and you learn and grow

with every goodbye, you learn.

Written by Veronica Shorffstall,1971

Why did the chicken sit on a can of beer...?

I am trying to clear out my freezer and refrigerator for the Big Move.  This scavenging has lead to finding the 4 cans of Sleeman Cream Ale that has been my fridge since my Brother-in-Law was visiting at Christmas and me trying to figure out what to do with them.  I don’t drink... so the obvious was out.

Since I do not remember what I did before Goggle... off I went to the keeper of knowledge.  Typed in “Uses for Beer” and voila!!! More ideas than I know what to do with.  Maybe some beer battered fish and chips, beer bread, keep it for killing slugs, cure brown spots on my lawn... the list was endless.  The idea that caught my eye and piqued my curiosity was “Beer Can Chicken”

Now, I have seen this before and thought with my luck, it would tip over, catch on fire and leave me standing in the driveway explaining to the cute fireman why I thought sticking a can of beer up a chickens butt was a good idea.  But, what the hell... you only live once.

I made a rub for my freshly bought bird, a little garlic, onion and paprika.  Opened up my can of cream ale and stuck it up the little buggers arse.  What surprised me the most was just how easy this was.  What came out of the oven was the juiciest, most flavourful chicken I ever tasted.  Not only was the inside amazing, but the outside was tasty and crisp (all the way around the bird so twice as much skin... and we all know the skin is the best part).

What I didn’t realize was the unbelievable amount of recipes that exist for the “Beer Can Chicken”.  Not only with the rub, but added ingredients to the beer.  I even found a cookbook devoted the statuesque chicken.  There are also a myriad of devices to keep said bird from tipping over... and different sizes.

Hmmmm.... maybe the next Turkey day dinner... but is my oven high enough.

We Can Do It!!!

I came across an article today.  Rosie the Riveter died on December 26, 2010 at a hospice in Lansing, Michigan.  She was 86 and her name was Geraldine.  At 17 years old, she was a factory worker and her photo was taken.  The man in charge of producing morale-boosting poster saw the photo and a legend was born.

Unfortunately, Geraldine did not learn of this fact until 40 years later.  She left the factory job after less than two weeks for a safer position.  Her non-war time profession was as a cellist and she did not want her hands injured.  Now, her life was full without the title of “Rosie the Riveter”.  She worked until she married a Dentist and had 5 children, 18 grandchildren and 25 great-grandchildren.  

After learning of her association to the famous Rosie, she signed poster until her arthritis made her unable to write.  Geraldine never made a cent from all the merchandise then and now that bears her likeness.

This article made me think... I have a poster of her in my home office.  I have had it there for years.  I even have a Rosie the Riveter collectible figurine.  I always like the simplicity of the statement “We Can Do It”.  It is as valid for women today as it was 70 years ago.  We never know how strong we can be until being strong is the only choice we have.  I have always felt that I was an independent woman.  Worked for my paycheque, took care of the home, did the finances, etc... but, I am grateful that I have always had people to fall back on if needed.

These past two weeks I have been getting the house ready to sell.  I have painted, plastered, tiled, grouted, put in new flooring and cleaned like I have never cleaned before.  The house looks amazing and I am quite proud of myself... I Can Do It!!!  But something is missing....

Although I still have support from family and friends, I no longer have  my husband, my  soul mate, my best friend;  someone to tell the stories of the day and to share in the accomplishments of my life.  Maybe that is the worst part of divorce.  We all have the ability to stand on our own two feet and conquer anything... but it is missing something if there is no-one to share it with.

Boxed In

Packing... should be a four-letter word!  I am in the middle of hell and it’s made of corrugated cardboard.  You would think that taking the materialistic items of your life and wrapping them in newspaper would be easy, repetitive, but easy. 

Nope... there are rules!!

The shipping companies have their own little bible of packing....  you would think that people would have enough common sense not to need it.  But we all know that common sense is not all that common anymore.

I was delighted to learn that throwing my crystal glasses into a box is not the best way to ship them.  The glasses should be well cushioned with “clean” newspaper (not the stuff I wrapped the fish in from the market) and I should mark the box “fragile” since I don’t want the movers using it for hacky-sack practice.

Heavy items should be at the bottom of the box and lighter items at the top.  Good to know... don’t put the books on top of the crystal. 

This lovely pamphlet also says that professional packers can pack your house in a day....I would almost willing to pay to see this.  Not a chance, at least not my house.  I could spend a day just packing my scrapbooking stuff... actually, it took me three days.  It feels like I am trying to dig a hole in the sand... every time I pack a box, I turn around and the space has been filled up again.

So my days are spent packing and cleaning.  Can’t wait until I get into my new place, where I get to unpack and clean some more.  Now if someone could invent “cut” and “paste” for real life.

Stash Guilt

I am packing, and packing and packing.  During this process, I have found that I am an addict.  I have found bags of my guilty pleasure in every nook and cranny of this house.  There are Ziploc bags and Rubbermaid containers full.  I guess the first step is admitting it... I am a yarn addict.

Now, if anyone of you is a knitter or crocheter, you are probably guilty of having one... a yarn stash.  Mine is out of control and I think I need help.  I found a six step program online that I am hoping that it will work.  http://knitting.about.com/od/knittingskills/a/stash_guilt.htm

Step 1:  Get something on the needles.   This means actually knitting something.  That is the basis of my problem.  I want to knit, I love to knit, I just don’t have the time. 

Step 2: Practice the one in-one out rule.  I have to get rid of a ball if I want to bring in a new one.  Nope, not going to happen.  How could I possible choose one of these beautifully spun works of art and get rid of it.

Step 3: Go on a diet.  Now this I can do, I think.  Every time I go to purchase something lately, my first thought is “how much is it going to cost to ship this???’... But, yarn doesn’t weigh much, right?

Step 4:  Try a swap.  I can’t think of any of yarn I would be willing to give up... so scratch this off the list.

Step 5:  Knit more.  Now, at first blush, this seems to be the same as Step 1... But, there is a catch.  Actually finishing a project.  Whoa, that is asking a lot.  For every bag of yarn I have, there is a project partly finish.  I am a free thinker.  I get bored easily. How can I stick with one project when I just found this GORGOUS new yarn?

Step 6:  Get over it.  Here we go.  The perfect solution.  My stash brings me happiness, joy if you will.  So it is time to accept it and move on.

So there it is again, moving on.  Seems to be my motto in life and it is a good one.  Maybe I will deal with the stash once I move in to my new home in St. John’s, Newfoundland.  I hear there is a support group at the local yarn shop on Wednesday nights... ooh, look... a sale on yarn!!!

Kiss Me I’m Irish

Today is St. Patrick’s Day and it is a day when we all have a little Irish in us.  What makes me wonder is...How much??  My Great-Great-Great Grandfather was born in Kilkenny, Ireland in 1802 and he died in Ferryland, Newfoundland in 1896.  Every generation from there on was born in Newfoundland except for me... I was born in Ontario.  I am Canadian ... with some Irish parts. 

I find it odd that when new immigrants come to Canada and still claim a connection to their country of origin, we feel slighted.  As though, if they wanted to come to Canada so badly, why do they not consider themselves, and their children, Canadian?   There is over 200 years since my ancestors came from Ireland but if someone asks me what I am... I will say, with pride, my family is from Ireland. 

So, as I set out on my journey to reclaim my roots, I think of the places where my family originated.  I think about my Great-Great-Great Grandfather and what he must off gone through when he got on a ship and sailed across the Atlantic to Newfoundland.  He probably had very little and had to start a new life from scratch.  My journey to Newfoundland will be a lot easier.  I will have a job, a home and family there to support me in my decision.  Practically a breeze compared to what he went through, but emotionally I think I can connect with him.  I am leaving everything I know behind to start a new life and hopefully, a better one.

Wishing you a rainbow
For sunlight after showers—
Miles and miles of Irish smiles
For golden happy hours—
Shamrocks at your doorway
For luck and laughter too,
And a host of friends that never ends
Each day your whole life through!

The Pendent is available at:
 http://stores.theirishjewelrycompany.com/-strse-584/Kiss-Me-I'm-Irish/Detail.bok