Nettie, my mother's best friend and strongest encourager in her battle against cancer, died this morning from her own fight; it was something we all expected was coming as her cancer had been in her life for several years, but even death draws faster than we can prepare for. After all the ups and downs of hopes and dreams and promises of new medicines to buy more time, the end has to come eventually - we just pray it never does.
I spent Thanksgiving dinner with Jeannette and her husband Marcus and his sister Lynne who came over from Scotland. Being Scottish both Marcus and Lynne have a great, quick-witted and biting sense of humour - and while Jeanette used to snort when she laughed, it took all she had that night to nod her head and grimace. And though looking at her reminded me of my mom the week that she died, a breathing skeleton with vacant eyes, she still had her fire because she got up on her own, unannounced to get the gravy started for dinner. Even with everyone trying to sit her back on the couch and take over she snapped back " You will screw it up!"
She even had a plate of dinner, with her hubby's Yorkshire puddings made the right way with two eggs and milk on the kitchen counter to warm to room temperature.
Marcus told the infamous "Marky and Nettie Love Story" after dinner. Though physically impossible with all the drugs in her system Jeanette seemed to have a glow come from within her as he shared their wild tale of true love. She sat there with her eyes closed as if listening to a bedtime story, and every once in a while she would open her eyes and look at her husband and give him a knowing, loving look. He told of how they met in the 70's - Jeanette was working at UBC and Marcus was working on the ships in Scotland; his brother was attending UBC at the time and was an acquaintance of Nettie's. On a short break from the ships, Marcus decided to come over to visit his brother and as it happened there was a party the next night. Of course Jeanette was there and according to Marcus, the moment he laid eyes on her when they were introduced it was like he was struck with a big arrow of certainty and was immediately high on the love drug. They were both in relationships with other people at the time but had both been so smitten with one another that they knew that no matter what the outcome was, they would have to be together. Marcus continued to tell us that they spent the next night together ( although no sex was had) and the next night (when the sex was had) Marcus asked Jeanette while they were taking a walk together "I know this sounds a bit insane especially considering we've only known eachother three days, but would you fancy getting married? Oh and could you let me know soon, my trip is coming up short and I've got to get back to the ships."
It wasn't until a little later on that night after Marcus had told us the story and everyone had gotten up to tidy up the dishes that Jeanette had mustered up the strength to tell me this : "Heather I didn't know much then or know what to think, but all I knew when I met Marcus and he asked me to marry him, that NO was not an option. "
I will miss Jeanette so much. Saying goodbye to her is like letting go another piece I had left of my mother - grief comes back again, though this time it is a little easier, and a little more bittersweet.
To me, Fair Friend, you can never be old,
For as you were when first your eye I ey'd,
Such seems your beauty still. - William Shakespeare
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
Don't get too close to me - you'll wish your Mama never had you.
Evidently this evening I'm a wee bit cranky (Schmoe, be thankful you are working tonight. <3) and the end is nowhere in sight.
Today at work was bearable thank goodness, because it was just me and the new kid, and bailing was not an option. See my monthly issues are a bit more of a pain to deal with than what seems to be the average woman's ordeal. I keep telling myself that if giving birth ever becomes a reality in my life it will be like a picnic in the park just with sweltering heat and little pests everywhere, but a lovely, uneventful picnic lunch nonetheless. I must have a fantastic level of pain tolerance in order to be able to function when the bitch is in town. She always overstays her welcome and is known to hang around for a full seven days, and even sends her things a week ahead of time sending me in a mad dash for supplies and hard drugs and sends my fiance into hiding. When he has detected it is safe for him to come out, he tells me that two weeks out of the month are enjoyable for him -poor guy. Oh whatever, he still proposed to me.
So after work this evening I go to the store and I go about getting my usual groceries. I of course needed to make a stop into the feminine care aisle. I reach to grab a box of tampons when a male store clerk comes strutting down the aisle like Mr. GQ and asks me assuredly if he can assist me with anything obviously not taking note of where we were both standing. I gave him a blank stare as I held my box of tampons in mid-air, wondering if this guy was trying to be funny or completely out of his mind thinking he could possibly know more about women's feminine hygiene products than me. I swore I saw the colour drain from his face when he clued in and with a start looked at the O.B. box of buckshots in my hand, took one look at my face and bolted.
I didn't think so.
Well he made me forget about the pain for a moment.
I finally got what I needed and made my way to the register, and of course waited in line behind a guy with a fist full of coupons. It's probably my upbringing, but seeing a guy being so frugal with his groceries and taking enough time to cut out the rebates is really odd; I'm still not sure where I stand on that right now, you might want to ask me later.
By the time bizzo is finally rung through, cashier girl is working double time and has already started scanning my items through and before I can tune back into the real world after reading about Oprah's secret love-child with an Alien, it has come time for me to pay. Always wanting to be one step ahead, I go digging through my purse to find my wallet deep within; once located I try to find my debit card which is NOWHERE to be found. And now I am annoyed at myself. I am crampy, bitchy, flustered and now embarassed because I am holding up another customer who is heaving air and sighing so much that I cast my steely glaze their direction and the hint is taken. Cashier girl tells me to take my time, it's probably in my bag; she understands because she does it all the time. Well that annoyed me because I am really organized for the most part, this kind of shit doesn't happen to me, and I am not usually spacey and flighty but this bitch has been here almost a week and it's time for her to go cause she's wreaking havoc. Just to top it off, as I am tossing things out of my purse like Mary Poppins, I hear a familiar annoying voice at the end, "Can I assist you to your vehicle with your purchases?". I look up slowly to face none other than BuckShot boy from the Menstruation section.
"No. thank. you." I growled back in a tone that said "Can I help throw you into oncoming traffic?"
Finally I located the damn card, paid and got the hell out of there. Unfortunately with my period comes nausea, and it didn't help when 'Pee-Man' was there waiting at the bus-stop to get on. I seem to think this man suffered a brain injury of some sort in the past, because while not that old he is not completely altogether, as in a few pieces short of a puzzle, a jig-saw type. There are two smells that absolutely make me want to wretch and that is the smell of human urine ( most strong in the city when people pee on the exteriors of buildings) and cat piss. 'Pee-Man' unfortunately for all of us, smells like both; and today was particularly bad. I didn't know how bad right away, I just knew the moment that I saw him standing there picking his nose as if he was seeking the Holy Grail, that I would smell him and I might be sick. AMAZINGLY enough I held it together by covering my mouth and nose to avoid any asphyxiation and vomit inducing as well as turning off my hearing aids so I couldn't hear him clearing his noise by forcing the air out of his nostrils hoping to loosen up the walls.
Oh Lord help me.
Save me from this insanity.
Save this world from my insanity.
Menopause is looking real good these days.
Today at work was bearable thank goodness, because it was just me and the new kid, and bailing was not an option. See my monthly issues are a bit more of a pain to deal with than what seems to be the average woman's ordeal. I keep telling myself that if giving birth ever becomes a reality in my life it will be like a picnic in the park just with sweltering heat and little pests everywhere, but a lovely, uneventful picnic lunch nonetheless. I must have a fantastic level of pain tolerance in order to be able to function when the bitch is in town. She always overstays her welcome and is known to hang around for a full seven days, and even sends her things a week ahead of time sending me in a mad dash for supplies and hard drugs and sends my fiance into hiding. When he has detected it is safe for him to come out, he tells me that two weeks out of the month are enjoyable for him -poor guy. Oh whatever, he still proposed to me.
So after work this evening I go to the store and I go about getting my usual groceries. I of course needed to make a stop into the feminine care aisle. I reach to grab a box of tampons when a male store clerk comes strutting down the aisle like Mr. GQ and asks me assuredly if he can assist me with anything obviously not taking note of where we were both standing. I gave him a blank stare as I held my box of tampons in mid-air, wondering if this guy was trying to be funny or completely out of his mind thinking he could possibly know more about women's feminine hygiene products than me. I swore I saw the colour drain from his face when he clued in and with a start looked at the O.B. box of buckshots in my hand, took one look at my face and bolted.
I didn't think so.
Well he made me forget about the pain for a moment.
I finally got what I needed and made my way to the register, and of course waited in line behind a guy with a fist full of coupons. It's probably my upbringing, but seeing a guy being so frugal with his groceries and taking enough time to cut out the rebates is really odd; I'm still not sure where I stand on that right now, you might want to ask me later.
By the time bizzo is finally rung through, cashier girl is working double time and has already started scanning my items through and before I can tune back into the real world after reading about Oprah's secret love-child with an Alien, it has come time for me to pay. Always wanting to be one step ahead, I go digging through my purse to find my wallet deep within; once located I try to find my debit card which is NOWHERE to be found. And now I am annoyed at myself. I am crampy, bitchy, flustered and now embarassed because I am holding up another customer who is heaving air and sighing so much that I cast my steely glaze their direction and the hint is taken. Cashier girl tells me to take my time, it's probably in my bag; she understands because she does it all the time. Well that annoyed me because I am really organized for the most part, this kind of shit doesn't happen to me, and I am not usually spacey and flighty but this bitch has been here almost a week and it's time for her to go cause she's wreaking havoc. Just to top it off, as I am tossing things out of my purse like Mary Poppins, I hear a familiar annoying voice at the end, "Can I assist you to your vehicle with your purchases?". I look up slowly to face none other than BuckShot boy from the Menstruation section.
"No. thank. you." I growled back in a tone that said "Can I help throw you into oncoming traffic?"
Finally I located the damn card, paid and got the hell out of there. Unfortunately with my period comes nausea, and it didn't help when 'Pee-Man' was there waiting at the bus-stop to get on. I seem to think this man suffered a brain injury of some sort in the past, because while not that old he is not completely altogether, as in a few pieces short of a puzzle, a jig-saw type. There are two smells that absolutely make me want to wretch and that is the smell of human urine ( most strong in the city when people pee on the exteriors of buildings) and cat piss. 'Pee-Man' unfortunately for all of us, smells like both; and today was particularly bad. I didn't know how bad right away, I just knew the moment that I saw him standing there picking his nose as if he was seeking the Holy Grail, that I would smell him and I might be sick. AMAZINGLY enough I held it together by covering my mouth and nose to avoid any asphyxiation and vomit inducing as well as turning off my hearing aids so I couldn't hear him clearing his noise by forcing the air out of his nostrils hoping to loosen up the walls.
Oh Lord help me.
Save me from this insanity.
Save this world from my insanity.
Menopause is looking real good these days.
Johnny Appleseed - AMEN!
Last night concluded all of the Thanksgiving shenanigans that might take place during the weekend with my family; it was also my cousin Nantina's birthday.
My aunt went on a baking frenzy this weekend and believe it or not made a killer pumpkin pie so I really didn't need to waste all my time buying the mass-produced styrofoam junk in the stores - whatever, I'll still eat it. My aunt also made two attempts last night to bake my cousin a cake. A simple no fuss 'any-dumbass-can-do-it-so-can-you' Betty Crocker type cake. Of course my aunt being a careful baker checked on the progress and upon seeing uneven shape on the surface thought that bubbles in the batter was no good and so after a few minutes of baking in the oven, proceeded to take the pan out and bang it on the counter, thus letting all air out of said bubbles. I don't need to tell you I am sure that the result was a VERY flat sad looking cake. It did not rise much more. She then flipped pan the over and the 'cake' flopped out. This sad brick simply would not do for her adult child and so she insisted she have another go; only this time would let the cake do it's thing. Everything was going according to plan the second time around, my aunt carefully making sure noone spoke too loudly or walked too 'heavily' in the house should the cake fall again. It all looked quite beautiful (a better word for 'normal') when she removed it hot from the oven; however things went terribly, terribly wrong when she flipped it over again to remove the cake from the pan and instead of coming out nicely in one piece it had come out in pieces. I'm sure my aunt was cursing herself because she knows as well as anyone that you are supposed to let the cake COOL before doing any flipping or any removal.
I will say that no cake goes uneaten in my family, and it doesn't matter what condition it turns out to be, just hand out the forks and they will have at'er.
We also do things according to traditions, however we also create our own. Instead of turkey we opted for beef dip for dinner - I'm sick of the bird anyway, it's over-rated. As usual there's very little of anything serious happening at the table, normally jokes are told and people are mocked and it's another day at our house, but as all families should do, we reflected on memories and went round the table sharing what we were thankful for in our lives. It went a little something like this:
Cousin Nantina : "I'm thankful for my mother who makes me not one, but two cakes because she loves her daughter oh-so-much."
Me: " I'm thankful to have an Aunt and Uncle who love us and support us."
Sister 1 : "Ditto"
Sister 2 : "Ditto"
Uncle Neil : " I'm thankful for John Labbatt." ( as he looks fondly at his beer can) " No but in all seriousness, I am thankful that 'The Rick Mercer Show' and 'This Hour Has 22 Minutes' has been moved to Tuesday nights because otherwise I'd be missing them right now."
Aunty Lou : " Wow Neil. That was moving. (rolls eyes) Well I am thankful for all my family whom I love, even though they are a little crazy and morals are questionable. And I am thankful for my little granddaughter Alyson and her sister or brother inside her mummy's tummy."
Alyson : (makes funny face) two year old's statement is inaudible.
Cousin Ian : "Yeah I wanna ditto what Aly just said and also I am thankful that I can pass gas and it doesn't hurt. I just did, did anybody hear it? It was AWESOME! Felt soooo good."
Alyson : shrieks of horror and disgust " NANA!! DADDY STINKY!"
And of course we ended it all with the glorious birthday cake that almost never was.
" And so I thank the LORD! For giving me the things I need, the sun and the rain and the appleseed! The Lord is good to me! JOHNNY APPLESEED! AMEN!
*food fight ensues*
My aunt went on a baking frenzy this weekend and believe it or not made a killer pumpkin pie so I really didn't need to waste all my time buying the mass-produced styrofoam junk in the stores - whatever, I'll still eat it. My aunt also made two attempts last night to bake my cousin a cake. A simple no fuss 'any-dumbass-can-do-it-so-can-you' Betty Crocker type cake. Of course my aunt being a careful baker checked on the progress and upon seeing uneven shape on the surface thought that bubbles in the batter was no good and so after a few minutes of baking in the oven, proceeded to take the pan out and bang it on the counter, thus letting all air out of said bubbles. I don't need to tell you I am sure that the result was a VERY flat sad looking cake. It did not rise much more. She then flipped pan the over and the 'cake' flopped out. This sad brick simply would not do for her adult child and so she insisted she have another go; only this time would let the cake do it's thing. Everything was going according to plan the second time around, my aunt carefully making sure noone spoke too loudly or walked too 'heavily' in the house should the cake fall again. It all looked quite beautiful (a better word for 'normal') when she removed it hot from the oven; however things went terribly, terribly wrong when she flipped it over again to remove the cake from the pan and instead of coming out nicely in one piece it had come out in pieces. I'm sure my aunt was cursing herself because she knows as well as anyone that you are supposed to let the cake COOL before doing any flipping or any removal.
I will say that no cake goes uneaten in my family, and it doesn't matter what condition it turns out to be, just hand out the forks and they will have at'er.
We also do things according to traditions, however we also create our own. Instead of turkey we opted for beef dip for dinner - I'm sick of the bird anyway, it's over-rated. As usual there's very little of anything serious happening at the table, normally jokes are told and people are mocked and it's another day at our house, but as all families should do, we reflected on memories and went round the table sharing what we were thankful for in our lives. It went a little something like this:
Cousin Nantina : "I'm thankful for my mother who makes me not one, but two cakes because she loves her daughter oh-so-much."
Me: " I'm thankful to have an Aunt and Uncle who love us and support us."
Sister 1 : "Ditto"
Sister 2 : "Ditto"
Uncle Neil : " I'm thankful for John Labbatt." ( as he looks fondly at his beer can) " No but in all seriousness, I am thankful that 'The Rick Mercer Show' and 'This Hour Has 22 Minutes' has been moved to Tuesday nights because otherwise I'd be missing them right now."
Aunty Lou : " Wow Neil. That was moving. (rolls eyes) Well I am thankful for all my family whom I love, even though they are a little crazy and morals are questionable. And I am thankful for my little granddaughter Alyson and her sister or brother inside her mummy's tummy."
Alyson : (makes funny face) two year old's statement is inaudible.
Cousin Ian : "Yeah I wanna ditto what Aly just said and also I am thankful that I can pass gas and it doesn't hurt. I just did, did anybody hear it? It was AWESOME! Felt soooo good."
Alyson : shrieks of horror and disgust " NANA!! DADDY STINKY!"
And of course we ended it all with the glorious birthday cake that almost never was.
" And so I thank the LORD! For giving me the things I need, the sun and the rain and the appleseed! The Lord is good to me! JOHNNY APPLESEED! AMEN!
*food fight ensues*
Monday, October 09, 2006
For the Love of Pumpkin Pie
For some odd reason, I have not been able to get my hand on some pumpkin pie for about the last three years. I never used to care much for it, that nutmeg flavour really didn't jive with my tastebuds but as it always happens, the foods you hate as a kid suddenly get tastier with age (that or your tastebuds have all been killed off.). So in an attempt not to miss out this year I went to the store and bought two - one for myself and roomie, and another to take to my family's tonight for dinner. I went to one store near my apartment first, but they didn't have whip cream so I wasn't going to waste my time with the pie if they don't have anything to top it with. Just like how I can't eat my pancakes without syrup, I cannot eat pumpkin pie without the whip cream; and it can't be just any kind of whip/whipped cream, it has to be the CANNED 'whoooooooooosh' kind, not the frozen 'Cool Whip' edible-oil-product(or in other words trans fat)-in-a-tub stuff, nor the liquid cream in the carton that needs sugar added and a good beating - it has to have a nozzle and it has to make a noise. It is the only way to eat pumpkin pie. And I would prefer it be chilled ahead of time, thank you very much.
I blame my mother for this pie insanity.
What's up with this new canned chocolate whip cream? I'm all for chocolate in any way, shape, form and wrapper, and heck I will probably end up with a can of this whip cream in my hand, but what is it FOR? Oh I know, it's for the lonely Saturday nights watching movie marathons without Schmoe. * sigh. When he's here I'm sure I will find other uses.
This year I will not be having turkey - no, in fact I am having both Thanksgiving dinners with Scottish folk so there will only be roast beast, smashed tatties, turneeps and peas and Yorkshire pudding with gravy - oh and now, there shall be the heralded Pumpkin Pie. Bring on the whip cream!
whoooooooossshh!
I blame my mother for this pie insanity.
What's up with this new canned chocolate whip cream? I'm all for chocolate in any way, shape, form and wrapper, and heck I will probably end up with a can of this whip cream in my hand, but what is it FOR? Oh I know, it's for the lonely Saturday nights watching movie marathons without Schmoe. * sigh. When he's here I'm sure I will find other uses.
This year I will not be having turkey - no, in fact I am having both Thanksgiving dinners with Scottish folk so there will only be roast beast, smashed tatties, turneeps and peas and Yorkshire pudding with gravy - oh and now, there shall be the heralded Pumpkin Pie. Bring on the whip cream!
whoooooooossshh!
Saturday, October 07, 2006
Giving Thanks and Astronomical Wedgies
This weekend is the Canuck Thanksgiving; when I was younger I remember our dinners being loud, busy and full of hooliganry.
My family used to congregate down at our trailer in WA state and there we would meet up with our other family members and countless friends; it wasn't unusual to have more than 50 people in attendance, but this often resulted in quadruple the amount of food and several turkeys (one year we named them respectfully 'Charles, Princess Di and Camilla' - they even wore crowns.). There was always a large group of kids that we counted on being there and of course we would run around causing trouble, with the dogs chasing after us getting in the way of adults carrying trays of food, peeling potatoes and carrots and heaving picnic tables to form a dining area not unlike a mess hall. It was chaos and everyone loved it.
We were fortunate most years to have our friend Lisa Brokop join us for the weekend; this usually meant she was taking a break from recording or touring or just home to visit from Nashville. She always brought her guitar and would treat us to songs around the campfire, with her mother playing the accordion by her side. One year, Lisa brought her friend Doug Flutie with her for the big dinner - I of course had no idea who this man was, but figured he had to be famous enough when all these people came to my trailer and they weren't there to see Lisa. My dad would pester me to get his autograph, but never told me who he was. I know now he was a famous quarterback football player for the NFL; his brother Darren plays for the CFL. Now that I am older, I see him endorsing cheap long distance phone companies and breakfast cereals on t.v. whereas his brother has taken his place as a football star. That's gotta hurt, just a little bit.
As a kid I was pretty contemplative and was often caught deep in thought and analyzing the person in front of me; I remember watching this Doug Flutie man sitting in my dad's lawn chair in my yard in front of my campfire with my dog running around him as he talked about his kids and Sesame Street. I was baffled as to why my dad, a proud, silent man would be so coy as to ask me his young daughter for this man's autograph. What was so special about this guy? Hardly a hero, in my opinion.
Now that Thanksgiving is here again, I look back on those dinners that I so looked forward to every year, when everyone was carefree and when life seemed to hold fewer burdens. I think about the loved ones who are now gone and those whose lives are drawing to a close, never to join us again and I am saddened. But with pain comes the opportunity to consider what is still left to be enjoyed, what Thanksgiving dinners are yet to come when the children of years ago now have children of their own and a new generation is born to carry on their own carefree ways. I know that even though my trailer is gone and my parents will not be joining my family this year, that some things will never change - jokes will still be told, skits will be performed, children will sing and dance and my cousin Ian will still give us all wedgies when we least suspect it. Ya gotta love family.
My family used to congregate down at our trailer in WA state and there we would meet up with our other family members and countless friends; it wasn't unusual to have more than 50 people in attendance, but this often resulted in quadruple the amount of food and several turkeys (one year we named them respectfully 'Charles, Princess Di and Camilla' - they even wore crowns.). There was always a large group of kids that we counted on being there and of course we would run around causing trouble, with the dogs chasing after us getting in the way of adults carrying trays of food, peeling potatoes and carrots and heaving picnic tables to form a dining area not unlike a mess hall. It was chaos and everyone loved it.
We were fortunate most years to have our friend Lisa Brokop join us for the weekend; this usually meant she was taking a break from recording or touring or just home to visit from Nashville. She always brought her guitar and would treat us to songs around the campfire, with her mother playing the accordion by her side. One year, Lisa brought her friend Doug Flutie with her for the big dinner - I of course had no idea who this man was, but figured he had to be famous enough when all these people came to my trailer and they weren't there to see Lisa. My dad would pester me to get his autograph, but never told me who he was. I know now he was a famous quarterback football player for the NFL; his brother Darren plays for the CFL. Now that I am older, I see him endorsing cheap long distance phone companies and breakfast cereals on t.v. whereas his brother has taken his place as a football star. That's gotta hurt, just a little bit.
As a kid I was pretty contemplative and was often caught deep in thought and analyzing the person in front of me; I remember watching this Doug Flutie man sitting in my dad's lawn chair in my yard in front of my campfire with my dog running around him as he talked about his kids and Sesame Street. I was baffled as to why my dad, a proud, silent man would be so coy as to ask me his young daughter for this man's autograph. What was so special about this guy? Hardly a hero, in my opinion.
Now that Thanksgiving is here again, I look back on those dinners that I so looked forward to every year, when everyone was carefree and when life seemed to hold fewer burdens. I think about the loved ones who are now gone and those whose lives are drawing to a close, never to join us again and I am saddened. But with pain comes the opportunity to consider what is still left to be enjoyed, what Thanksgiving dinners are yet to come when the children of years ago now have children of their own and a new generation is born to carry on their own carefree ways. I know that even though my trailer is gone and my parents will not be joining my family this year, that some things will never change - jokes will still be told, skits will be performed, children will sing and dance and my cousin Ian will still give us all wedgies when we least suspect it. Ya gotta love family.
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